Praevāricātor
by sadistickunais
Summary: *Part 9 posted* A continuation story; follows the destruction of the Chantry, siding with the mages, and letting Anders live. Main Pairing: Hawke/Anders. Hawke is a mage; her appearance is mostly ambiguous; concerns the Hero of Ferelden, the journey to find and save her, deciding what will happen to Anders, and Hawke's purpose now that the war between mages vs. templars has begun.
1. Chapter 1

Note to Disclaimers: I do not and never will own Dragon Age 2, etc. All characters are the property of BioWare, and this is NOT for profit.

A/N: I've never written a Dragon Age fic…and it's challenging since so many things with the main characters (Hawke/Hero of Ferelden) are not constant other than their main titles. However, I did my best. I left her appearance, more or less, ambiguous. There are a couple things to note though: this is a Hawke/Anders romance, she is a mage, Bethany dies and Carver becomes a Templar. In this story, Hawke chose the Mages, etc. And there is some Fenris/Hawke romance, and from the previous game the Hero of Ferelden was also a Mage. Other than that…yeah, do your best to try and fit your character in here if you wish it. I did not use a first name for Hawke though Marian is the generic one. I also played with the dialogue and scenes a bit, to give it a little more depth so forgive me if they are out of order in certain parts. Anders lives. Hope people like it. Thanks.

A/N Part II: I would also like to give credit to Alceriniel, whose story helped with Fenris. I really did not know how to portray him as I didn't have him in my game too much. Her work is inspirational. GO READ HER FIC!

'_Thought' & Flashbacks_

"Speaking"

Everything else

* * *

**Praevāricātor**

_Dare to fall in love? No, Hawke didn't do love, much like her new companion in crime, Isabella, the pirate captain. The two had become what one would call fast friends, especially since both liked to fight, had sly, witty personalities and both could hold their own in the tavern. With them were usually Anders and Varric. The dwarf enjoyed the company of both Kirkwall's Champion and the Pirate Captain from afar, boasting that they were better drinking companions than most men in Kirkwall. As for Anders, he usually joined them, albeit spending most of his time saying strange things and drinking his ale without too much conversation. But Hawke would be lying if she said she didn't find these moments enticing. Since the beginning she'd had a deep interest in Anders, the Grey Warden mage she'd found in Darktown. As a healer, she thought he'd be calm, passionate about life and easy-going. And he was all of those things and much more, particularly more once she'd found out about his very close friend—Justice. It had intrigued her, from the very start, how gentle and comedic Anders himself was, though his darker side seemed to be consumed by his guest, though welcomed no longer. _

_Sighing, Hawke turned away as Isabella began teasing Aveline, who had joined them, albeit reluctantly, in a belated celebration of her promotion to Captain of the Kirkwall Guard. It had been years ago but they'd been so busy doing missions and cleaning up Kirkwall that finally, after dealing with Castillion, they were able to rest for a small amount of time. Having restored her estate and seen her brother Carver join her enemies, the infamous Templars, Hawke felt the depression of her lost family weighing heavily in the noisy tavern. She wanted nothing more than to be alone, alone to ponder and grieve over the deaths of Bethany and Leandra. It'd been years since Bethany had died, at least 6; and maybe a little more than 1 or 2 in regards to her mother. She felt empty. Everyone around her had lost things—family, friends, possessions that served as life buoys, homes, lands, etc. And on such a happy occasion where Aveline's face was graced with a true, genuine smile, since she'd lost her husband, Wesley, to the darkspawn shortly after their meeting, should've brought at least an ounce of joy to Hawke. Instead, she wanted to be swallowed up by the Blight like the rest of her family. _

_Ignoring the constant teasing not sent her way, Hawke finally stood and headed out of the private room reserved for Varric. She did not stop to greet anyone, choosing to walk straight through the door and did not stop until she'd left Lowtown and ended up on her front porch in Hightown. Fenris and Merrill had not joined them, stating they had important matters to attend to elsewhere, though Hawke suspected that this had everything to do with the fact that Fenris hated all mages, except for her. With Carver gone, Bethany and Leandra dead, it was just Hawke in her estate, big, vast and lonely. Her uncle Gamelin had not been allowed to move back into the estate with her as she'd forbidden it. While she loved her uncle, he being the only family she had left, she did not wish him to be near her. He was the reason, the real reason, all her family was gone. 'No…that isn't it…' she chided herself as she sat in her chair before the blazing fireplace, alone and destitute. However magnificent her estate was, it left little room for expansion on these thoughts; without someone to share it with made it worth absolutely nothing. Fighting back tears, she slowly, ritualistically, began to remove her mercenary armor. It was light but efficient, having been enchanted and imbued with all sorts of special gemstones suited to her needs as a mage. At this thought, right as she had stripped herself of the specially imbued gloves, her mind wandered back to the Dual Mage, as she now thought of him. Pausing mid way through unclothing herself, Hawke let her head fall against one of the four posters of her bed. _

"_I can't…" she murmured to herself. "It's…not good for me…I'm just fooling myself. He'll only hurt me."_

"_You've done well, remembering my words."_

_Shocked, Hawke startled a bit, dropping the gloves to the floor. Feeling her heart beat quicken at the voice, she turned away again, boots and leg armor still on in contrast to her top—a simple undershirt and her bare arms. "Oh…I did not hear you enter."_

"_Quite a strange thing for you, isn't it, Hawke? The Champion of Kirkwall, snuck upon by a random mage."_

_She chose to ignore this sarcasm, her mind feeling heavy and eyes burning. "What can I do for you?" _

"_In lieu of what you've just said…I can only image that…you were…thinking." Their eyes met briefly, his brown solemn against her bright pair. "About me…that is."_

_Picking up the gloves and throwing them harshly next to her light armor, she looked away again, the firelight shrouding her eyes. Her hair bounced a bit as she did so, also hiding her expression from the mage before her. "And what about it? It makes no difference what I think, Anders."_

"_Hawke…"_

"_What?" She snapped forcefully, instantly regretting it when he looked away. "I'm sorry." She signed again, falling to seat herself on the plush mattress of her four-poster. "I am very tired. And I am much…drained. Is there something I can do for you at this time?" _

_For a moment neither of them spoke, the silence hanging heavily around them as Hawke tried her hardest to act as though nothing had changed, as though nothing had transpired there in the quietness of her room. A couple more minutes ticked by in silence before Anders finally cleared his throat. "I will, you know."_

"_Break my heart?" She whispered in reply. "Yes…I know." Silence. "But I don't care. I've never felt this way about anyone, never. I lived in Lothering my whole life; but it doesn't mean that I was bound there. I did go out into the world. I did meet a lot of people, a lot of men—none who took my fancy. This isn't just some misconstrued "love affair" or some silly infatuation because of the Blight or whatever is happening here in Kirkwall." Hawke suddenly brought her eyes to his again, her own glistening with tears she would not let fall. "This is not some game, Anders, not for me."_

_He looked pained all of a sudden though he kept his distance from her. He didn't know what to say; or at least she had gathered as much judging by his expression. She looked away again just as he started speaking. "Hawke…it's more than that. Justice does not approve of my obsession with you; he believes you are a distraction. It is one of the few things on which he and I disagree."_

"_It looks like he's winning your battle," she said, her voice low but full of sorrow. "Please…excuse me."_

"_You can't tease me like this Hawke, and expect me to resist forever," Anders replied solemnly. "When I was in the Circle, love was only a game. It gave the Templars too much power if there was something you couldn't stand to lose. It would kill me to lose you."_

"_You aren't going to lose me," came her response._

"_No mage I know has ever dared to fall in love. This is the rule I will most cherish breaking."_

_Hawke's eyes widened at his statement, whipping around to face him only to discover that he had very quietly closed the gap between them, his entire being scant inches away from her own. He was so close she could have reached out and touched him. Gasping, she back pedaled an inch or two of her own, surprise washing over her as she cautiously asked, "I…Anders…what are you…?"_

_He said nothing, instead closing the space between them, his lips crashing onto hers in a show of desperation for her essence. But she knew it was not desperation that drove him, but something else, as his lips demanded attention from her own stunned pair. Hawke felt his hands cupping her face, his breath hot and body pressed against hers so tight that had there not been armor between them, she surely would've felt like heaven had descended upon her. Allowing her hands to move for the first time, his surprise having paralyzed her for a moment, Hawke clutched his shoulder pauldrons so tight she thought her fingernails would sink through it. She couldn't let him go, wouldn't. Her arms felt taut against her own will, securing him in place lest he slip away from her when she was so close to him now. The tears from earlier pricked her eyelids as she drank him in through their joined lips, the feeling threatening to become her undoing as she tried, valiantly through her emotions, to remain strong. She was Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, not a sobbing, lovesick woman. She'd come a long way to accomplish everything she had, with the help of all her companions. But it was amazing to her, even now, how one kiss from this man could dissolve her carefully built reputation and resolve. And for once in her whole time in Kirkwall, for once in her whole life in Lothering, Hawke did not care. If this is what love did to someone she was content in letting it rule her, no matter how foolish it seemed in the end. Without Anders, life was humdrum and not really worth living as it had once been. _

_The tears finally fell, one, two, thin rivulets as she continued to kiss him, feeling like fire was burning her veins. She didn't care if Justice remained between them; she didn't care if she couldn't have a normal life with him; she didn't care if they had to be fugitives and run away from the Chantry. Her whole life had been about obeying others, particularly those of the Chantry. She'd seen, first hand, what the Templars thought of Bethany even in their dire time of need. She hated her Phylactery, how it held her hostage, how it ruled her life—a life that, according to the Chantry belonged to the Templars, because of her ability to do magic. She was not an evil mage; neither was Anders, and neither were a lot of them. The blanket belief that all of them were evil mages hell bent on mind control and using Blood Magic for their personal gain was far from the truth for some of their kind. Another tear slid down her cheeks as Anders finally pulled away, smiling for a moment until he saw her tears._

"_Hawke?" His fingers wiped the tears from her eyes. "I have…hurt you."_

"_No!" She replied quickly, turning away in shame. "It's just that I've…spent my whole life as an apostate, being hunted by Templars even when unity is more important. I do not want to…kill anymore people than I have to. But I can't stand here and let the mages be massacred. If not for the fact that it is injustice, then, for the mere fact that I am a mage, I must do this. And…it would honor Bethany's memory." _

_Anders' smile was genuine and kind, if not a little weary. "You'll be a fugitive."_

"_I don't care," Hawke answered quietly, staring into the blazing fire. "I won't do it…not without you."_

_A comfortable silence settled over them as Anders stood next to her, his fingers gently touching the tips of her own. Hawke felt peaceful for the first time in years since she'd come to Kirkwall. With no remaining family left—save Gamelin—she felt the need to fight for a good cause, one that would honor and protect innocents. Contrary to popular belief, many mages were innocents, not bloodthirsty mongrels in enchanted robes. Bringing her head to lean on Anders' shoulder, she began to ponder the next best defense. Now that she was done exploring the Deep roads, what else was there to fight for? She didn't want to stay in Kirkwall forever, estate or no estate. She'd lived beneath her current means for years. Hawke didn't feel the need to prove so much, even at such a young age—possibly because all she'd done in Kirkwall, a city of the Gallows, a prison run by the Templars. _

"_You…you will have me here, living with you? An apostate? Hawke…you've seen me for what I am; you saw what I almost did to that girl in the Gallows…how can you be so sure that I will not hurt you?"_

"_I'm not sure. I cannot predict how long you'll be able to stay in control of Justice. But as I've said, I am willing to stay here by your side. I'm willing to be hunted…as long as you're with me." The words sounded cheesy and foreign to her own ears as they left her lips but she could care less now. She loved this mage, this apostate who was cursed. Varric had warned her, and she appreciated such. Isabella had seemed slightly concerned; Aveline had said as much. As for the rest of her party, Merrill and Fenris had said little to comfort her; Fenris had completely opposed her in her choice. But she loved him and that was all there was to it. Sighing, she let a melancholy smile place her lips. She would go on despite the consequences. _

"_You'd rather die with me from being on the run for years to come…rather than stay here and live in your estate, with all your friends?"_

"_My friends…they will always be here, Anders. But love…is more important." Anders flinched at this and Hawke raised a brow. "Anders…you've been acting somewhat…strangely towards me since we rescued that girl. It makes me believe you do not want this."_

"_I do," he replied truly, his eyes downcast. "But I…I must help the mages. I'm going to…free them. From the Chantry. I cannot involve you in anything from here on. You're support has meant the world to me, Hawke."_

"_You don't trust me." She frowned to no one in particular, recalling the story of a certain famous Grey Warden who had loved their current King, but could not be with him because of politics. 'Screw politics…they ruin everything.' That Grey Warden had sacrificed herself to remain the new Commander of such an esteemed group, eventually sacrificing love for responsibility, honor, dedication—all which had left her lonely and cold, from what Hawke had heard. Even as the Champion of Kirkwall, she did not want to be like the infamous Hero of the Circle of Magi, Grey Warden Commander in Ferelden, of Vigil's Keep. "Anders…you will do what you must. I will not stand in your way…any longer. Please…excuse me."_

_She walked past him briskly, ignoring the longing look he sent her way even as his hand reached out to stop her. Brushing it aside she made her way past Sandal and into the study where, once seated, she proceeded to really cry, her heart breaking as she stifled her sobs. Being strong was a curse; being the oldest was a strain she no longer wished to bear. 'If only Bethany was here…or mother.' Her thoughts darkened and she slid against the desk, tears soaking her sleeves and body wincing when she heard the slam of a door, her front door to be exact. "Anders is…gone. I'm all…alone." _

_The tears flowed harder. _

* * *

_While the Champion of Kirkwall was a strong willed person, and a hard headed woman, one would not think that if they saw Hawke the next morning. Following her disappearance from The Hanged Man, Aveline and Isabella had been concerned—in their own ways, of course—and had decided on visiting her the next day. Aveline had wanted to rush after her friend right away but when Anders disappeared shortly after their Champion, Isabella had suggested they visit tomorrow because "Hawke might be getting some tonight." Aveline had made a face at this but slowly agreed; she understood, having been married before though the crudeness in which it was said, she could've done without. However, nothing could prepare them for what they say when Hawke answered the door. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy from crying, her hair was askew atop her head; her lipstick smeared so that she looked completely disheveled. Upon seeing them she whispered a quiet "Good morning."_

"_Morning? What in the bloody seas are you talking about? Hawke, it's the damned afternoon. We've been wondering where you've been at!" Isabella shouted. _

_Aveline glared at her lack of tact. "Good afternoon Hawke. Are you…alright?"_

_Hawke gave them a blank faced stare and shrugged. "I suppose so. Why do you ask?"_

"_Cause you look like hell, that's why."_

"_Varric! Andraste's knickers, where did you come from?" the pirate captain looked spooked._

"_You're not supposed to hear me, remember?"_

_Rolling her eyes, Aveline ignored the ensuing argument between the two as she refocused her attention back on Hawke who looked all but interested. About to suggest if they could come inside, Hawke beat her too it. "Um…yes…would you all like to come in?"_

_Nodding, the Captain of the Guard proceeded inside, practically dragging an arguing Varric and Isabella with her. Fenris had agreed to come shortly; Merrill said she would be there soon. Anders was nowhere to be seen. 'Probably at his clinic, catching up on healing patients…not that I could blame him. Hawke must've rejected him.' Aveline thought as she took a seat while Varric and Isabella vanished into other parts of the mansion. Aveline knew that the Mage fancied their Champion, who also happened to be a mage. What better match than two mages who understood the intricacies of magic, abstaining from corruption and avoiding becoming an abomination? All in all, the captain thought it was a perfect match, taking Justice out of the equation. The power hungry, vengeance driven spirit did seem somewhat fitting to Anders' personality but not entirely. The seemingly righteous but gentle mage appeared a good match for their Champion; Hawke was headstrong and believed in doing what was right—past circumstances aside—even though when they first arrived, she'd had to accept a more twisted version of it to make ends meet. It didn't seem to differ from Justice himself, and what he'd done to be a part of Anders, with the exception that he was no longer quite so justified; more like vengeful. _

'_Anders!' Suddenly remembering why they came, Aveline reached out and placed a comforting hand on Hawke's. "Yes…Hawke…about—"_

"_Anders! Did you, he and Justice knock boots there, all saucy-like? I've been wondering what it's like to bump uglies with a spirit. Sailors get so boring after a while. One seamen, all seamen I say…" Varric and Aveline both glared at the woman. "What? Is it something I said?" _

_Hawke would've flinched had she not been so terribly aggravated with the entire situation, and the mention of the Mage's name. Shaking her head, she lied. "No…I was just…thinking about my mother again. I really do miss all of them." _

"_You really are a phenomenally bad liar, Hawke," Aveline chuckled in slight amusement. "I miss Wesley, too. I understand." _

"_But I thought she was lying about that!" Isabella didn't seem to be buying any of it. "I mean…I'm not trying to be insensitive; I know you miss your family, Hawke. But this…doesn't seem to be about them."_

"_Tact, Isabella, tact!" Varric whistled back at her. "You lack it…heavily." _

"_Amongst other things," Fenris said, walking in quickly and quietly. Merrill followed behind him looking nervous and jittery, though from what no one knew. Why Fenris ended up coming with Merrill was strange since he hated Mages, Merrill and Anders in particular. Fenris took a seat close to Hawke and gave her a look. "You've been crying."_

"_How observant of you, Fenris," Hawke said, offering him another of her small smiles, her tone dry. "Anything else you'd care to point out about my appearance?"_

_Merrill beat him to it. "My gosh Hawke, you look like you haven't slept. Did you have bad dreams?"_

_Fenris and Isabella sighed at the Elvin Mage's obvious naiveté. Merrill, for as sweet as she was, lacked worldly knowledge and overall perception when it came to a great deal of concepts, other than the usage of Blood Magic. Even Merrill's obsession with the Dalish Mirror she'd found was a source of naiveté. Hawke hadn't understood how the young woman didn't think dabbling with Demons would eventually get her killed. As a mage, Hawke knew never to deal with demons and now, spirits as well. Sighing, Hawke returned her attention back to Fenris as he gave her a hard stare as if he was trying to discern what had actually happened to her from the last time he saw her to now. This was proving less difficult when he realized that the Abomination wasn't present, which implied that it didn't take a genius to make the connection between the two. While it was true that Fenris had a spectacular knack for these things, it made his blood boil that such a sweet, resilient woman like Hawke could be taken by such a corrupted mage. The Abomination, as Fenris called him, may not have dabbled in Blood Magic like Merrill, but he might as well have—he was a monster, a creature of foul origins and such. It made him sick just thinking of the creature laying his hands on such a beautiful person like their leader. He tolerated the Mage out of respect for Hawke but that was where it ended. He did have some lingering attraction to her, whether it was physical or emotional seemingly irrelevant to him at this point. He would've gladly taken her away from this place, from…HIM. It wasn't necessarily that he praised Hawke, put her on a pedestal or even thought she was perfect. He'd spent many a night awake, struggling with the fact that she was a Mage, too. That there was a possibility that she could become and abomination, a shade, twisted and corrupted like so many other was a constant concern. He was aware that, at any given moment, she could become just like Denarius, or worse, like a blood mage or her "friend." _

_It just didn't seem to be in her personality to twist and warp her power for personal gain, like the mage he despised. He noticed her red-rimmed eyelids where tears had fallen over the creature. He hated that they fell for Anders, a name he wouldn't dare say. It wasn't even that he wished they'd fallen over him; he never wanted to make her cry. If he did, he knew he'd hate himself. This woman was special, someone to be kept as pure as possible. She was all that was good, all that was Just in the City of the Chains, the gallows. He didn't condone her dedication to the mages but he could not argue with the fact that she strove to bring peace as opposed to choosing sides. 'And for how long will you be able to do this, Hawke?' He glanced at her from underneath his white hair, watching her carefully as she smiled a fake grin for the others, though he knew only Merrill bought it. 'The Knight Commander and the Head Mage will push you to choose…and when that time comes, who will you choose?' He knew it was foolish to even venture into such a question. She was a mage. Anders aside he knew she would choose the mages. He had a bad feeling that something was about to burst, the pot of boiling water was going to boil over soon. He had been watching the Abomination closely, observing his every movement. They were all calculated, careful, painstakingly subversive. Whether this was because he was hiding something terrible or not didn't matter to Fenris, so long as the Mage kept Hawke out of it. He could care less if the monster ruined himself and his life. He only cared for Hawke. _

_Little beknownst to him, so did the Mage. So much in fact, that he was unaware just how far the mage would go to free her. _

* * *

It felt too good to stop, and she would be damned if she did now, after everything they'd been through, after all this time. Hawke didn't care anymore, ignoring the small part of her conscience that told her Anders destroying the Chantry was probably not for the best. But another part of her, the Champion part of her, agreed with him. After all, she was a mage, Bethany was a mage, and her true loyalty lied with the mages. Aveline had told her that no matter what, they'd remain friends, that she wouldn't give up their location or any information about them. Hawke knew that was a lot for Aveline since she was the Captain of the Guard; but the woman informed her that her loyalty was to Hawke, after everything they'd been through. The same went for all her friends—Varric, Isabella, Merrill, and even Fenris, who she knew hated mages. All that said, after the Chantry was destroyed and Meredith was slain, she and Anders disappeared, leaving her estate to her friends to do with what they wished. Now she and Anders had escaped into the mountains outside of Free Marches, with Templars surely hot on their trail. Seeking a small reprieve, they'd made camp in a small cave when it started to snow.

She could see Anders standing by the mouth of the cave, shrouded underneath his armor, black feathers dancing in the wind. Outside the blizzard carried on, oblivious to them and her inner thoughts. He'd been pretty quiet as of the last few days following their escape from Kirkwall a year ago, and she began to wonder if he regretted it. '_What will I do if he does?_' The thought of Anders regretting her, of thinking he shouldn't have brought her, made tears spring to her eyelids. Looking away, Hawke dug in her pack for something to eat as it had been at least a few hours since they'd last made camp. She didn't want to dwell on the fact that she'd given up everything to be with him, should he decide it was a bad decision. She was so engrossed in her weary thoughts that she didn't even hear him approach until she felt a hand rest on her shoulder. Immediately she sprang up, dagger at his neck. When he did not make a move, her eyes softened and she turned away.

"You startled me."

"It shouldn't be so easy to startle you…is something the matter?"

"No," she replied quickly, returning to digging through the pack of supplies they'd rationed. "I'm just…exhausted from the battle."

"As am I…but it was months ago. Surely…this is being caused by…something else. Is it something I can…heal?"

"No, I am fine," she replied again, this time with more firmness in her tone than she actually meant. "Is there something you need?"

"Why are you doing this, Hawke? I don't want to fight." He said simply.

"Fight? Who ever said anything about fighting? I answered your question. Is that not what I am supposed to do?" She continued to rummage through the pack as if she was actually looking for something, which she wasn't. Now, she knew she was just avoiding looking at his handsome face. "Would you like anything to eat?

"Hawke?"

"I think we have some left over jerky or something that I packed from my house."

"Hawke…"

"Or there are fruits and breads."

"Hawke…please."

"I have a first name, in case you've forgotten! Hawke is my family name!" She finally shouted, enraged even as the tears threatened her eyelids again. Silence followed her little outburst, tension thick around them as she stilled, no longer looking in the pack. "I am…very tired. I think I will go rest…if you don't mind." She finally turned to face him, fighting back the tears and biting her lip to stop everything from falling apart around her. "I've been on edge lately…and it's not your fault. I apologize for this…incident." He said nothing, only staring at her peculiarly. Somewhat perturbed by a lack of response in any aspect, she felt the tears burning now. "Let me know if you require something."

Before she could go more than a few steps Anders had grabbed her arms, whirling her back around in a most unromantic gesture as she crashed head on into his chest. She couldn't say anything as his lips covered hers so fiercely it left her dizzy. His lips were anything but cold, demanding attention from hers with a ferocity she hadn't seen since they'd first met Justice in the Chantry walls. It seemed to slip easily into her veins, cutting off circulation in a dizzying dance of sensual prowess and power that she'd never felt from him. It was true Justice radiated raw power but not of the sexual sort. She reached for him, hands sliding wildly underneath the top of his garments, pulling to remove them. She gasped when his lips left hers, choosing to travel down the exposed expanse of her neck while his fingers delved into the hooks of her vestments, digging through the soft cloth fabric in search of skin. Hawke couldn't get enough of him, her fingers crawling languidly into his shirt through the top of his shirt collar, her fingers finally having loosened his top part and thrown it clear off. By now he had backed her against a wall, the rough rock of the cavern prodding her back now that the lower half of her robes had been bunched up. Somehow, in the midst of their frantic touching Anders had managed to lift her up, one arm underneath her for support while the other caressed her breasts through the fabric of her top.

Her legs had tightened around his waist to help him support her while her own hands began undoing the straps of his tunic like top, itching to feel his skin against her own. It was mere moments before she was without her robes, the rest having been ripped straight off by his skilled, deft hands as they searched for any place on her he could touch. She moaned as he began sliding off the straps of her under shirt, kissing along her shoulders as he did so, his teeth nipping at her skin along the way. How bad had she wanted this? '_Too bad…for me to even…damn…'_ She couldn't think straight as his hands roamed her thighs, now free of their cover, leaving her in her underwear. She was sure the blizzard outside was colder than she could imagine; but this didn't seem important when all she could feel was trails of fire where Anders fingertips met her skin. By now his shirt was open but he was still, remarkably, clothed, which frustrated Hawke. Not one to be subservient, she suddenly pushed him back, catching him by surprise as she turned the tables, pinning him to the wall with all the strength she could muster. He didn't seem to object as his palms rested on her hips, bringing her flush against his body as his hips met hers. She hissed at the connection, heat pooling between her legs, fire alighting her midsection as she could feel Anders length pressing into her inner thighs. It seemed inevitable now—the last time they'd been alone they hadn't gone this far, opting to make out to ridiculous lengths like school children. During a mission so important, they couldn't get ahead of themselves. Not an overly chaste woman by any means, Hawke still felt a powerful blush overtake her as Anders' hands began to roam again, this time further down until they were resting comfortably underneath her bottom. She let out a small, surprised squeak when one of them snagged the hem of her underwear and pulled at it, all but ripping the thin garment then and there.

Balking, Hawke finally managed to bring her eyes to meet his, the blush on her cheeks deepening when she saw him staring at her, eyes hooded and ripe with lust. This gaze was short lived when he leaned forward, lips capturing hers again. And she could feel it; the guilt slipping through his lips to her, the justice and Vengeance, entwined with his love. It was all there, painfully bright and brilliant, heart wrenching and beautiful as it poured into her, the taste rich, tangy and sweet, smooth like velvet, rich like chocolate and hot like the desert sands. He would consume her; then there would be nothing left. And she now truly knew it.

But she didn't care anymore.

"Please…" she whispered when he finally broke from her, his lips and face resting in the crook of her neck.

"I should not have dragged you into this, I'm sorry," he mumbled, tone so low, so solemn.

"Anders…" she whispered again, this time luridly, her heart beating so fast and hard in her chest she thought it might burst. "Abomination or not…you're still a man. And I love you."

Those words seemed to cause him slight alarm and he brought his gaze back to hers, their breath intermingling as his frown lessened and turned to genuine awe and wonder. "I didn't…not even in Kirkwall…I didn't think you could ever love me this much, Hawke." She pressed a small, gentle kiss to his lips. Anders let his eyes close for a brief moment, reveling in the comfort her soul seemed to give, relishing in the soft lullaby it sang to his, quieting Justice's rage and need for vengeance. She was his, after all this time. After years of wishing for someone who could love him, despite Justice. After 3 long, arduous years of aching for her, and her alone. His hands on her skin tightened, eliciting a gasp from her, pleasure laced and sensual to his ears. She wanted to be his.

In Kirkwall, during their years and travels together he had denied himself her essence until the very end. He had let her be romanced by Fenris, had let the once enslaved elf court her in his own way. He had watched from the shadows, from the sidelines, silent and longingly as Hawke never accepted the Elf's advances; but she never refused them either. He had stood by her side, tormented by her very presence and how her body seemed to call out to him in sweet, alluring whispers that made him ache for her touch and hide from her, too. How her eyes alighted with true mirth at his companionship; how her fingers comforted him; how her sweet, soothing words calmed him. How she was forgiving but relentless. He had gone to great lengths to protect her from himself, even instigating fights with the Elf because he knew that as much as Fenris hated mages, he didn't hate Hawke. She was a pure Mage, one the Circle would have gladly accepted had she not chosen to remain an apostate. She had to constantly get between him and Fenris, always remaining fair to both sides as she considered them both friends. How many times had he refused her hospitality? How many times had he run away to the protection of his clinic, drowning himself in his Manifesto; working himself half to death with his patients; neglecting his well being? He knew he'd spent countless evenings debating on what to do about her, about the obsession he'd developed, before Justice decided to take matters into his own hands. So many nights he'd spent convincing the spirit that she would not ruin their plans, that she would not interfere, that she was a friend. His walls began to crumble, the carefully built fortress of protection he'd crafted began to fall away with each look, each touch, each comforting gesture she offered to the mages of Kirkwall—to him. Her friendship had been his downfall. And before he knew it, he'd fallen in love with her, Justice be damned.

Her endless understanding and compassion had captured him, and for once he wanted what he had always wanted before Justice, before the Warden's, before Vigil's Keep. He had finally felt like he could return to the days of Ser Pounce-a-lot, the days when all he wanted was a pretty lady, a cat, and the chance to shoot idiots, as he used to think. The days before the Blight in Ferelden was silenced by his fellow Grey Warden and their Hero, his friend. In Kirkwall, keeping the Templars off his doorstep had been his biggest, and only worry, for as long as he'd remembered. But when she came, everything changed. She protected him, offered him a place to stay. And loved him. She had been the one light through all of it, even with Justice demanding they ignore her. And after everything, she stayed. He wanted to rejoice in this but it only made him feel worse that she was so wonderful, so caring—and he was a murderer.

That thought stabbed through his lust and he stumbled away from her, turning to look back to the cave's mouth before pausing. How could he possibly think to destroy this beautifully crafted, innocent creature? She embodied everything he wanted his cause to, except that she wasn't the one trying to accomplish it. "I…you should get your rest Hawke. It's…you'll need it once we leave again."

"No…don't walk away from me. You said you should've trusted me," she muttered. When he did not say anything, nor did he make a move to apologize in any way, sudden anger coursed through her as she gathered her clothes. "You said you loved me. But I can see now that Vengeance has won this battle permanently. If you should require something, Ser Mage, I will be in my throw."

The cold manner in which she answered him, so broken and final, disconnected and harsh, told him that he had, perhaps, gone too far. He knew he was a fool. She had sacrificed everything for him and here he was, denying her, and him, what they both wanted. Hawke threw her stuff down on the side as she redressed herself and crawled into her sleeping throw, tears burning her eyelids but never falling, nor did she once look back at him. In spite of it all, she was alone again. She'd left Kirkwall, helped the Mages run rampant, stripped her title of Champion and destroyed the lives of some of her closest friends; she'd thrown away 7 years of her life—and for what? For a mage who couldn't even love her, who lied to her, who betrayed her trust? She hated herself more than anything now. And as she turned over, listening to the soft hum of Anders sorrow as it was carried by the wind, she loved him all the more.

One thing continued to spin through her head as she attempted to sleep away the disappointment, the fears, and the sorrows that plagued her. She hadn't actually heard the screams of the innocents, of the Grand Cleric Elthina but she felt as though she had, as though their screams were drumming in her ears like a poison in her veins that would never cease. He had poisoned her; Anders had cursed her just as he'd cursed himself. And she knew she had taken a great part in it by letting him fool her even when she knew he was lying. She had allowed him to change her, to convince her that destroying the Chantry was a necessary part of the battle. All the while she had let him live and aid her in a cause she knew was probably going to cause a war, all because she loved him more than anything. Justice aside, she hated herself for knowing that, given the chance, she'd do it all over again, in a heartbeat. Because as much as she loved the man, she knew the ideal to be true, the goal to be fair. However, it didn't mean she had to like his methods, extreme as they were. She would've done it all so differently. '_Wouldn't I?' _she glanced back to the blizzard where Anders was still standing, resolute. _'No…I wouldn't have. Nothing would've changed. Meredith was determined to keep her power hungry ways, to destroy the mages—eventually me, Champion or not. And Orsino…he would've turned to blood magic, ultimately. None of this would've mattered. Anders wouldn't have doomed us all. We would've. He may have made this harder for us…but there was no Blood Magic involved, there were explosives—any human could've done the same._'

Somehow this justification didn't seem enough, though it was the truth. In the end, Anders had not resorted to Blood Magic to get his point across, to protect them, like Orsino had. True, he was an abomination, one that had killed innocents. He didn't seduce anyone; warp their minds to calm them, nothing of the sort. He'd placed bombs in the Chantry, powerful, strong, bombs. She caught herself at this thought. '_Bombs…made from Tevinter engineered magic…Maker help me, I'm a fool._' Anders may not have used blood magic but it didn't change the fact that he'd used some form of magic. He was exactly what he'd spoken of, a cornered mage, scared and at its last wits end. Justice, now Vengeance, only aided the process and made him cleverer, stronger, smarter—deadlier. Resisting the urge to vomit, she finally fell into a fitful slumber, the cold snow outside whistling in the wind as it blew. He hadn't changed her one bit; she'd only come to accept that they were more alike that she'd previously thought.

* * *

"_I removed the chance of compromise because there is no compromise." He repeated after the Knight Commander's departure, followed shortly by Orsino's advisement that they needed to hurry and regroup._

"_Bombs," she said simply. "You were collecting the Sela Petrae and Drakestone to make bombs. That's why you asked me to speak to the Grand Cleric. Not because of Justice. You never wanted to separate from him, did you?"_

"_There's nothing you can say that I haven't said to myself. I took a spirit into my soul and changed myself forever to achieve this. This is the justice all mages have awaited."_

_Furious and blushing with rage, Hawke stared at his back. "Did that spirit tell you do this?"_

"_No. When we merged he ceased to be. We are one now. I can no more ignore the injustice of the Circle than he could." He remained solemn, sitting on the crate before all his peers._

_Hawke's frown deepened. "I might have understood, if you'd only told me." _

"_I wanted to tell you. But what if you stopped me? Or worse, what if you wanted to help me? I couldn't let you do that. The world needs to see this. Then we can stop pretending the Circle is a solution. And if I pay for it with my life…then I pay. Perhaps then Justice would at least be free."_

"_Opinions?" Hawke said. "Anyone care to share their thoughts?"_

"_Belief is no excuse. Sincerity does not justify…this." Aveline looked torn between the two, especially given everything she knew about Hawke and Anders, not to mention their relationship._

"_He should come with us. Do what he can to put things right," Merrill answered instantly though she seemed nervous about giving her own opinion, even though it was asked for._

"_I think I'm sick of Mages and Templars," Varric said hotly, not really caring anymore as long as he stuck with his friend._

"_Whatever you do, just do it." Anders seemed resigned to his fate of death, not caring anymore. He wouldn't die without having been happy, if for a little while, with Hawke._

"_Help me defend the mages."_

_He looked incredulous as he stood up to face her, as though it was a dream. "You mean…stay with you? I didn't think you'd let me. But if you do…I'll fight the Templars. Damned right I will."_

_When no one said anything further Anders turned to her again. "Thank you for my life. I'll try not to make such a mess of it this time."_

_Varric rolled his eyes as he turned to Hawke. "We'd best get to the Gallows, and quick. It's going to be quite a show."_

"_Only you would find this remotely comedic," Aveline answered._

_Isabella, who had muttered little more than a sentence the whole time, chuckled. The saucy pirate had stuck with Hawke through in through, having been rescued by her from the Qunari and Castillion. "I'm ready. When do we fight?"_

_Fenris had left, the mage hating elf outraged that she'd chosen to save the mages. But what should he have expected from her? Hawke was a mage, and Bethany was too. Sure, Carver was now a templar but that was neither here nor there. Looking away from Anders for a moment, she started heading out. She could feel him following behind, the thick waves of guilt seeping from his pores, oozing out Vengeance's twisted ideals. In the fade, when saving Fenryiel, she had hated having Justice accompany her as Anders ceased to exist. But now, it was so much worse, the realization that Justice had been morphed into Vengeance by the very soul and ideals of Anders himself stinging like needles digging into her flesh. It was just all too much for her to handle anymore. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she continued on, her companions behind her, ignoring Anders. _

_Anders looked away, ashamed but determined as she walked ahead of all of them, the glares of Aveline not unnoticed; the comforting gesture of Merrill unwanted; the quips of Isabella lacking comedy; and Varric's disappointed gaze hitting him square in the face. When they reached the precipice of Lowtown Anders could only watch in horror as part of his plan backfired. The mages around them had been cornered, and he shut his eyes in pain as the one before them slit her wrist, the blood pouring out and abominations and shades erupting from the ground. What had he done?_

* * *

Hawke awakened with a start, disoriented and groggy as she glanced around, taking in her surroundings as quickly as possible. It was still snowing outside, which she could see from the mouth of the cave, but Anders was nowhere in sight. She reached from her staff, illuminating the cavern with the soft glowing electricity as she looked around. Still no Anders. Despite her anger at him earlier, fear gripped her. Had they been found, after all the careful steps to conceal their trail? Had one of her old companions given away their secret? She quickly stood, throwing on her mage robes as she slowly, quietly made her way towards the opening. She could hear the howling wind now as the blizzard beat down harder on the entrance than before she'd fallen asleep. She couldn't see a thing out there, not even a tree was visible in the thick torrent of white sheets that fell from above. Tentatively, she reached to stick her hand out, crying out in pain when the snow stung her skin. Recoiling, she hissed.

"Anders?" When there was no response, she shouted again. "Anders!"

She couldn't see him through the thick snow, couldn't hear him over the merciless crashes of the hail-like storm, and couldn't feel him either. Everything told her he was gone, that he had left without her, his decision made—whether to save her or carry out this mission, she didn't care. Biting back tears, she whirled around and went back to her campout spot, sliding back into the covers when she realized she was shivering heavily. Her thoughts immediately drifted back to her dream-turned nightmare from the last year in Kirkwall. At the end of the battle Fenris had returned to her, claiming her friendship was worth more. She'd freed him from slavery, and whether he wanted to admit it to everyone or not, he had admitted to her that being a mage in the Circle was no different than being a slave to Denarius. She was right, and he would stand by her for it, for their friendship. How she wished she could hear his berating words, or Aveline's clear disagreement but support; Varric's stories full of embellishments about the Champion, or even Merrill's tentative, craze filled ideas about restoring and preserving Dalish history. In fact, she would've given a lot to hear Isabella's highly inappropriate chatter about sailors and sex. Anything to return to the normalcy she'd left behind. She missed them, all of them and their excellent companionship. She felt the urge to hit her head on a sharp rock.

She'd chosen Anders over them—a decision she, very secretly, did not regret one bit—and what did she have to show for it? The man wouldn't even look at her the way he did before they'd left Kirkwall; and now, he would no longer touch her the way he did moments ago. Sparing his life was surely the wrong thing to do, it was a mistake. So why couldn't she stop trying to convince herself of that exact reason? She knew, morally, what he'd done was wrong. He didn't need to murder all those innocent people in the Chantry; but Meredith didn't need to murder every innocent apostate in Kirkwall, either. No matter how she looked at it, Anders was wrong, but so was Meredith, and so was she. It bit into her, the justice, the injustice, all of it, right to the core. She felt like her being was cracking into pieces the more she thought about it. '_So what is sustaining me from dying, right here, and right now? What's keeping me from running out into that blizzard and letting it take my life? It's not worth much these days._' Suddenly Hawke wished she could meet the Hero of Ferelden, wished she could meet the woman who had withstood rejection and heartache to keep going. Anders had known her very well—they'd been Grey Warden's together. She wanted to ask her how she did it; how she had allowed Morrigan to save them and sleep with the man she loved. Hawke wanted to know how the Hero of Ferelden could allow their king Alistair to marry Anora, daughter of their enemy, and continue her post. It made Hawke sick to think about it because, despite everything that happened, she could not wrap her mind around the idea of Anders with another woman while she protected him. She'd given her heart to him those 5 years ago. He hadn't stolen it; he hadn't tried to. But when they first met she couldn't hide her interest. It had plagued her every night from their first meeting.

She felt like he was consuming her, filling her lungs and haunting her every movement without actually being dead. Although for him, he had mentioned feeling such a way. With him and Justice, now Vengeance, as one being who could never be separated, she suspected these were the consequences they'd both carry for the rest of their lives. She would forever remember what he'd done and forever remember that she'd chosen to let him live as a murderer rather than a martyr, that she'd chosen to continue loving him in spite of the entire extreme catastrophe he'd caused. And he would forever be that murderer, consumed by his hatred for the Templars and forever with a dangerous spirit in his soul, and a love that he seemed unable to fully accept. Hawke would've cried if she had any more tears left to do so but she was no longer able to, her head hurting and heart aching unlike it had in the past. Back then, when she, too, ached for Anders in ways she didn't quite understand, she simply brushed it off and spent her days flirting with Fenris, who seemed all too willing to oblige. The elf had been shy about it and hesitant at first but he had reciprocated and when Anders no longer spoke to her—silent until the night he destroyed the chantry—Hawke had considered returning Fenris' affections two-fold and leaving Anders behind. Yet her heart didn't allow it. It refused to budge from its perch in Anders unknowing hands, settling there and staying there like a bird in his grasp. She tried very hard to stay neutral in Kirkwall, mostly wanting to have a house for her mother, and to ignore Carver at any cost. Hawke didn't want to be a Champion, a hero, a catalyst. None of that was her intention. As a mage she had enough to worry about without all the other drama Kirkwall threw her way on a daily basis. Upon meeting all her companions as time passed she found that their adventures held a lot of fun, quips and witty banter. She'd made a small, intimate and trustworthy group of friends who she considered important to her, who she would do anything for while she lived.

At the thought of "trustworthy" she cringed, her mind slammed backwards by the thought of Anders and how he had lied straight to her face, and hadn't seemed phased by it. She wanted to believe he was doing it for her own good. When he had told her he thought she might offer to help him, she thought it was ludicrous. She would never help destroy the chantry—maybe Meredith. Just not the Chantry. Grand Cleric Elthina had seemed reasonable and powerful enough. But she knew, no matter how she looked at it—Chantry aside—that he was right. Meredith had to die, and Orsino had to be stopped. The Circle was a slave hold for mages; the Templars a force to be reckoned with, at least in Kirkwall. She couldn't say the same for all Templars and all the separate Circles. The Hero of Ferelden had been a mage from the Circle where First Enchanter Irving worked closely with Commander Gregor, whom she'd heard about plenty of times. And if Anders knew how King Alistair, who had sent them on their mission, felt about mages and the Circle, would he have done what he had? She began to delve deeper into the questioning of her beliefs, of what she'd been taught, when there was a rustling to her left. Grabbing her staff with lightning quick reflexes, she was out of her sleeping back so fast that she didn't realize who she was looking at until her staff was pointed at the person's neck.

"Hawke…I must say, even after all this time your reflexes are still quite sharp."

"Aveline!"

The former Captain of the Guard smiled at her through her heavy gear and snow covered hair. "How have you been? Everyone's been so worried."

"How did you find me?" Hawke answered, incredulous as she quickly set to making a fire. She was about to ask more when there was a crash followed by cursing right behind her fellow Ferelden.

"Sod it…Varric, you fool! It's not like I ever wear the warmest clothing. The least you could've done was warn me about a snowball fight!"

Hawke shook her head, doing her best to conceal the joy that wanted to burst from her. "Isabella, you never change. Perhaps you should wear some warmer clothes! This is a blizzard, you know."

"And surprisingly, we didn't get caught up in it. Though I have to say…" she glanced around, a devilish glint in her eyes. "It's the perfect time to knock boots…if you catch my drift."

Ignoring her, the dwarf story teller made his way over to where the fire had started to blaze. "Andraste's knickers it's cold in here Hawke. Are you alone?"

Hawke bit back a snappy comment and nodded. "Yes…it would seem so."

Everyone fell quiet for a moment. Aveline looked at her friend. "Where is Anders?"

"I don't know. He disappeared after I fell asleep, however long ago that may have been. I don't know." She whispered the reply. "How…how is everything back…in Kirkwall?"

"We've been staying in Lowtown. But Kirkwall is more or less destroyed. With the Circle gone, Templars prowling about, and the Chantry destroyed…it's chaotic. But…the chaos does protect us; and so do Varric's contacts. Guardsman Donnic has joined us as well. There's nothing left of the City Guard. They all fled elsewhere," Aveline said, her eyes unreadable. "Hawke…do you know why Anders left?"

"No," she responded briskly as she added more wood to the fire pit she'd fashioned out of rocks and dirt. "I can't honestly say I know why. Whatever the case…I will need to keep moving. Which reminds me…Aveline…have you been spying on me? How did you find me?"

Aveline looked guilty, and looked away. Isabella, however, saw this as a perfect opportunity to open her big mouth, which smelled slightly of a brewery. "I'll tell you. Your hunky turned rebellious mage had been leaving a trail, just for Aveline. We've known where you've been all along, Hawke."

Varric rolled his eyes. "As we've all said before, tact is not your strong point, pirate."

"Bugger off, dwarf," she said, smacking him lightly.

"What?" Hawke looked puzzled. "But…"

"I asked him, before we all parted ways after fleeing Kirkwall." Aveline looked pensive. "I asked him to ensure you're safety, and to ensure that I knew where my friend was, at all times. The truth is, Anders may be a murderer, and I do not and never will condone what he has done." Hawke flinched. "But he's not an idiot. I told him to leave me a trail only I would understand. He has done so, as promised. You cannot be angry with me for keeping an eye on you, my friend. Things are only going to get worse. You need all the allies you can get. And don't tell me you don't."

Hawke mumbled obscenities under her breath and nodded in agreement. "And what of Fenris…and Merrill?"

"They're still in Lowtown. Merrill has been afraid to leave the safe house and Fenris has decided to watch over her," Varric replied."Though I'm not sure it's fear keeping her there, or the mirror. Damned thing creeps me out."

"Fenris? Odd…I surely thought he hated Merrill."

Varric laughed, "He does. He only watches over her for your sake—and so Aveline won't slice him in two. Remember, he did side with you in the end, to save the mages."

Hawke smiled a little. "I suppose that should give me some comfort."

Aveline suddenly stood, pulling a cowl over her head followed by a heavy helm. "Stay put, Hawke. I'm going to look for Anders. Varric, you're coming with me. Isabella, keep an eye out for straggling Templars. Keep Hawke safe." Hawke raised a brow. "What? You didn't think we'd have no back up plan after all these years, did you?"

"Yes, Captain!" Isabella mock saluted, looking fully alert if not still smelling like a beer barrel.

Varric stood and followed Aveline. "Just like old times, eh, Hawke?"

"And then some," the mage replied, her eyes shining. "Be careful."

"We always are," the red head answered with a smile.

Watching them as they left, she ignored Isabella's rummaging through her pack in search of food. She was recalling all their adventures together when a memory struck her. '_Watch for the moment. And when it comes…do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly. Now the time has come for me to leave. You have my thanks…and my sympathy_.' The Witch of the Wilds, she had been right. She had known what was going to happen, eerie as it sounded. She had said they were on the "precipice of change" and that they would have to leap. And they all had. Anders had forced it sooner than it should've but it happened nonetheless. '_And I leapt…we all did. And she knew I would make this choice…her sympathy…she knew._' Whether Flemeth knew she'd actually take a leap and choose Anders himself wasn't really of consequence anymore. It was the fact that she had known Hawke would do this. Sighing, she turned back to Isabella as the, for once, fully clad Pirate Captain waltzed back over to her with a selection of fruits. Trust Isabella to make every instance a funny, joyous occasion, one where it didn't seem like Templars could be knocking on her doorstep.

"Hawke, where do you get this stuff? I can't trade this on my bloody boat for anything. Food supplies are always bad in Lowtown, and they're always…lacking the exotic."

"I guess you bring that exotic flavor to Kirkwall, then." She rolled her eyes when the dark-skinned woman grinned, all teeth. "Isabella, just eat some of it."

"Don't have to tell me twice!" She began to eat the fruits before glancing over at her friend. "You know, Hawke…this fully clothed thing is the most interesting thing I've done yet. It's…confining. But comfortable."

"Isabella…we're in a BLIZZARD. What part of that didn't you understand?" Hawke quipped with genuine merriment, always amazed at how laid back her friend was, no matter what the situation. "Anyway…how have you been? Sailing the seas?"

"You'd think I would have after that sodding mess we got into in Kirkwall…but I grew fond of everyone. My ship is still at the docks, luckily untouched. Everyone seems to think we all disappeared, which we did, at first. We came back through an underground passage that Varric told us about. Kirkwall was…is our home, for now. As soon as we gather enough supplies…I'm sure we'll all move out." The pirate raised a brow at Hawke. "Do you…ever miss it?"

Looking away, she shook her head. "No, I don't. There was nothing left for me there. My home is wherever my friends are, now. And if you are here, then it is here in this stinking, putrid and cold cavern."

Isabella laughed heartily at this. "You are sulking. It's not becoming of your pretty face, Hawke. I like it more when you're witty and laughing, like we did before, or after some ale." Then, as if she'd discovered gold, she pulled out a leather-hide canteen. "And boy, did I bring some for this adventure! It's bleeding cold out there. How else does everyone think I've been keeping warm?"

Never surprised but always pleasantly welcomed to her antics, Hawke took a long swig of the Hanged Man's finest whiskey, which pretty much compared itself to pigs piss. The whiskey burned her throat and made her wish she'd taken a smaller drink. But she could careless anymore. Things were going to utter shit around her and if having a drink would help ease her, just for one night, who was she to refuse? The fire in the cavern had blazed brighter, and she didn't pay attention to anything more. Had she, she may have noticed that Anders' pack was still present in the cave. But Hawke was too miserable to care about anything anymore. Drunk off the liquor and in her witty friend's company, she dug her face into the confines of her hood cap, willing her eyes not to shed a tear over the man she was cursed to love.

Forever.

* * *

_So...what did people think? I thought I'd give it a try. Yes, I'm still going to be finishing my other fics so no one get mad! I'm working on them after I post this. Let me know what you think. If you happened to do the Anders/Hawke romance...did anyone else think that the song after, "I'm not calling you a liar" by Florence and the Machine, was PERFECT? It seriously spoke to me of their romance, tortured and beautiful, after I beat the game. Total fangirl fantasy. Anyway, please R & R, if you want. Thanks._

_**~sadistickuanis**_


	2. Chapter 2

Note to Disclaimers: I do not and never will own Dragon Age: Origins, Awakening, or Dragon Age 2, etc. All characters are the property of BioWare, and this is NOT for profit.

A/N: Hey all, here is chapter 2 for those who like it so far. The pairing remains FemHawke (mage)/Anders. It's a continuation story of DA: Origins, Awakening and DA II. Anders lives, everyone has gone into hiding and they are going to embark on a search for the Hero of Ferelden (who, in this story, is an elf-mage who did NOT marry Alistair but did have a romance with him). There are references to the story telling aspect of DA II: i.e., Varric and the Seeker, Leiliana, etc. Please be advised. I'll do my best. Constructive Criticism is welcome. Thanks.

'_Thought' & Flashbacks_

_**'Justice'**  
_

"Speaking"

Everything else

* * *

**Praevāricātor (Chapter 2)**

Aveline pushed through the brush with Varric close behind, ignoring the constant howling and wind chill of the blizzard flurrying around them. She noticed it alright but chose to not let it stop her in their quest to find the Renegade Mage who happened to be Hawke's friend, and, in a way, their own. Despite what Anders had done, Varric still very much liked the mage as the dwarf wasn't deterred by politics. The "murder" part didn't sit well with anyone and wasn't quite forgivable for Aveline but they'd all murdered people. '_Just not innocents,_' she told herself. Varric, to Ander's favor, had told them all that the Chantry may have been "innocent" to some but that he would hardly agree that forcing mages into the Circle was an act to be praised. There were good and bad in every place one looked, he'd said. It's not like the Templars didn't smuggle lyrium and get drunk off its power. Meredith had been a prime example of all the bad a Templar, a person in power, could do without natural Magic at her disposal. The Lyrium his brother had sold her had clearly corrupted her power hungry mind. For all the good things she did, there were the bad. And likewise, for all the bad Anders had done, there was a fair amount of good. Aveline felt a headache coming on as she remembered how much of a migraine she'd had following the long, drawn out debate they'd all had about Anders and Hawke, about Meredith and Orsino. It hadn't ever actually ended well, or at all.

If one counted Fenris stomping off, Merrill leaving in a fit of nervous antics and Isabella just disappearing, then sure it had ended. When they'd looked back, only she and Varric remained in his private room at the Hanged man, both looking slightly perplexed to find it practically empty. Shaking her head, the red haired guard swatted a stray branch from her face as she heard Varric call out to her.

"What is it?"

"I think I see Blondie over there."

Aveline followed his pointed finger towards the east side of the mountain they'd be traversing, her eyes falling on a dark clothed figure standing resolutely feet of ahead of them. Rolling her eyes, the guard made her way over with Varric close behind, annoyed that she'd have to drag the proud mage back to the cavern. He'd catch a deathly chill if he remained in the cold too long, magic aside. When they reached him he nodded, acknowledging their arrival but made no move to return with them.

"Blondie, what in the hell of Orzimmar are you doing out here?" Varric looked up at his friend. "You trying to freeze your nuts off?"

Anders shrugged, nonchalant. "Actually…I was thinking, mostly. I didn't know you'd be keeping an eye on me."

"As much as I'd love you serve you a heavy dose of City Guard justice…now is not the time. You need to come back to the cave. You're going to die out here," said Aveline, her voice neutral though her words told otherwise.

"Aveline, why don't you just serve it now? I don't have much of a fight left in me," Anders replied quietly.

Sighing, the former Captain made a face at his back. "Look, Anders, I'm here because there is something I need to speak to you about." Anders turned towards her a fraction. "And Hawke. It's important. I remember saying that if anything was going on, Hawke would be the first to know."

Varric blinked before shaking his head. "Come on, Blondie. It's time to return. You've got that girl going crazy in the cave with Isabella."

Raising a brow Anders began to follow them, his hair windswept and covered in white snow. "Is…is the elf there?"

"Fenris chose to stay back with Guardsman Donnic and Merrill. I fear you don't have to worry about him, for now." Aveline's green eyes were unreadable to the mage but he could care less at the moment. Letting Varric bring up the rear, she quickly strode in front, Anders in the middle like a prisoner on his way to the Gallows. She didn't pay much attention as the dwarf and the mage talked, most likely catching up on their days missed. Her concern was her friend, Hawke, and how she was fairing with the Pirate Queen. She had to use all her strength and intimidation to keep Fenris at Kirkwall—she was sure they would end up fighting and it would become a bloodbath. But at the mention of Hawke and Anders the elf immediately resigned himself to staying at his post, to guard the other infernal blood mage he despised. Aveline had not yet mentioned it to Hawke herself but her Templar brother, Carver, had also gone into hiding with them. On most nights he spent his time alone, every now and then being accompanied by Merrill, who inquired to him everything she wanted since Hawke was no longer around. If the Guard didn't know any better, she'd think the mage liked the Champion's brother. Shaking that thought away she prepared herself to enter the cave, Anders and Varric in tow. She stopped just outside the cave's mouth when she heard fits of laughter erupting from inside. Stopping for a moment, Aveline couldn't help but smile as she heard the strong, shouts of joy coming from Hawke. It'd been far too long since she'd seen or heard her friend happy and carefree, living for the moment. Even before Hawke and Anders vanished into hiding, it had been some time since she'd seen a smile grace Hawke's lips, at least not one that wasn't tainted in some way. She hated to interrupt their gay reunion but she knew it had to end. Dark times lay ahead of them and she needed everyone to be prepared, especially their Champion.

"Ladies, ladies…I'm beginning to think there was a party without me," Varric said with a dashing smile as he approached the two drunken women by the firelight.

Anders had silently slipped in and to the side behind Aveline as she, too, joined them on the stone floor. She could smell The Hanged Man's finest on their breaths and then some as Isabella leaned over, draping her arm across the red-head's shoulders. Aveline ignored the constant giggling that seemed to continually spout from Hawke's lips as she held her sides, the laughing obviously causing her some pain from whatever joke the Pirate had made. Not one to let her guard down, Aveline refused the offered drink Varric sent her way, opting instead to watch Anders closely as he remained in the shadows, Hawke oblivious to his presence. The former Captain was about to say something when Hawke suddenly fell back, arms falling over her face, with strained effort, to stop laughing even harder. Their dark skinned friend had toppled over as well, lying across Hawke's midsection as she threw twigs into the fire with a dreamy grin on her face. Both women were completely sauced, and Aveline tried to remain annoyed. Varric had all but given up on attempting to be rational, having joined them shortly thereafter in their drunken haze. Suddenly, the leather-hide flash seemed too much to resist and Aveline took a small sip from it, almost spitting it out thereafter.

"Maker that's awful stuff, Varric," she breathed.

The dwarf winked. "Finest in all of Kirkwall, though."

"Varric, it tastes like pigs piss, it does!" Hawke shouted before collapsing into another fit of giggles as Isabella poked her side. "Isabella!"

"What? Hawke, I'm trying to complete this very important mission. See…it's called…" she looked thoughtful for a moment before snorting. "It's called mission "burn the twigs, all the bloody lot of them!"

"That's some mission you've got there, Pirate," Varric answered, his eyes glazed to show he was somewhat buzzed. Aveline rolled her eyes as his turned on her. "Come on, Captain! It's just one night."

"One night of debauchery," she said evenly, trying her hardest to remain stern. But after everything Hawke had done for her she couldn't quite ignore the fact that a little fun, especially during such times, was well needed. Sighing, Aveline reached for Isabella's pack. "Is there any ale in there? I'd prefer that over the pigs piss whiskey." Varric handed her a different canteen, this one filled with dark Ale that Aveline could tolerate. She took a long swig before slamming it back down on the ground in front of her. '_Maker…that is truly terrible!_' she wiped her mouth with her cowl, deciding that using her hand would only result is lashes across the face from her gauntlets. "Varric…I will regret this sooner than later."

"Indeed you will, Captain. But it takes the edge off, which you could use every now and then."

Hawke giggled like a school girl for the hundredth time, playing the fake drums on Isabella's back as they both hummed a merry, drunken tune out of sync and unison. From the shadows Anders continued to watch them, jealous, his body aching to be where Isabella was currently draped over Hawke. Every fiber of his being pined for her in ways he had no longer thought possible. His body ached, ten fold compared to the 3 years before, to have her underneath him, writhing, panting, chanting his name like a holy prayer. How he wanted her to embrace him, take him into her as though she required his very being to complete her. He wanted every part of her, body and soul, mind and heart, every inch of her. Anders could feel a headache coming on as he heard Justice's words, loud and clear.

'**Take her. She is yours to claim. Take her and be done with her already.'**

Fighting against the voice that so many times dominated his rational thought, Anders shook his head. '_No, she is not something to claim. I am not going to mark her like some animal!'_

'**She is a distraction at best, mage. You know there is only one way for us to accomplish what we have sought.'**

'_No, I won't hurt her.'_ He gritted his teeth hotly.

'**It's too late for that, fool. You have already hurt her so much more than she can forgive. You are warped and she will never really love you.'**

Still, Anders pressed on, avoiding him. '_I'm not warped. She does love me! You're the monster here.'_

'**How quickly you've forgotten that it was not I who sought Vengeance. It was all you, mage, you and your twisted ideals.'**

This immediately quieted Anders; his jaw locked in anger at himself as he listened to the rude internal laughing Justice seemed to do. It was odd, knowing that they were now one person, merged into an Abomination so complex he didn't know where he started or Justice ended. He'd said as much to Hawke before but it really began to sink in more and more as time passed. His constant mental arguments with Justice proved harder to win as the days went by, the only thing sustaining his true self was his heart, or so he believed. Hawke had his heart, something Justice could never touch. But it didn't seem to make much of a difference when it came to loving Hawke, at least not physically. He still denied her and pushed her away as though she was the abomination between them. And for all of it Hawke kept returning, kept trying to break down the walls around him. Little did she know she had pretty much already won that battle effortlessly, her eyes showing him everything she wanted to give, everything she wanted from him. For someone so intelligent and level-headed, Hawke wore her emotions on her sleeve most of time, at least around him and her friends. It wasn't hard to tell what she was thinking, granted she hadn't said it in the first place. Sighing internally, he stayed in the shadows, content to watch her have a good time before the dawn came. When he caught Aveline's eye, he knew their real problems were about to begin.

Some hours later found Hawke passed out before the dying campfire; Isabella was curled up like a drunken cat next to her side. It was strange how close the two were; some might mistake them for lovers. But everyone else knew they were like sisters, Isabella being the older, more fun of the two while Hawke kept the Pirate in line and on her toes. It was strange seeing Hawke sleep so deeply. Aveline had to thank Varric and Isabella, a little, for bringing their whiskey otherwise their former Champion might be up pacing for hours in her worry of Anders. The mage was sitting across from Aveline, quiet and solitary though Varric sat next to him, cooing away to his lover, Bianca. If the weapon had been real, Aveline was sure that she'd be the happiest human in all of the lands considering how much Varric doted on her. Shaking the thought away she looked at the Rebel Mage, her expression anxious as Anders continued to stare into the fire as though mesmerized.

"You've been quiet, Blondie."

Anders shrugged. "What is there to say?"

"Did Varric mention that he was dragged into an interrogation by the Seeker?" Aveline's eyes met Ander's cinnamon pair head on, her look hard when Anders shook his head. "He was questioned by the Seeker of the Chantry. They want to know where the Champion of Kirkwall disappeared to. And…the Hero of Ferelden."

The look of surprise on Anders' face was genuine, so genuine that Aveline now believed he had no idea about what happened to his fellow Grey Warden. "What? The Warden Commander is gone?"

Aveline nodded. "Apparently she disappeared, just like Hawke. Only we know where Hawke is. No one knows where the Hero of Ferelden is now…King Alistair has been searching for her but with no luck. As it is…she cannot have much longer to live considering what you have shared with us about…being a Grey Warden."

The hesitation in Aveline's voice was pretty new for Anders; the captain was rarely ever uncertain, nor did she jest like Hawke. "Maker's breath…my friend is missing…it seems suspicious."

"She did disappear before…this mess happened." She stated wearily, not feeling the need to mention the facts about Anders' blunder. "The Seeker thinks that no one knows where the Champion is. We do but that doesn't explain the sudden disappearance of the Hero of Ferelden. We need her to return. Something tells me things are only about to get worse for us. We need..." she glanced at the woman snoring lightly off to the side. "We need Hawke at her best."

Anders bristled at this comment, sure it was an accusation coming from the Captain of the Guard, but said nothing in return. His will to fight wasn't gone but had been diminished in the year that they'd been running. He'd dutifully left behind the trail Aveline had requested, a favor so she would not execute him herself, with her own infernal sense of justice. Having the spirit of Justice in him no longer seemed a blessing but more of an ironic occurrence. For the spirit was no longer that; Justice was gone, Vengeance was there to stay. Shaking his head, Anders nodded to her, letting the comment slide. "How did you get caught…by the Seeker of the Chantry?"

Varric chuckled. "It really wasn't that glamorous. In fact, she had guards drag me through some dark corridor before throwing me onto a chair and making me retell the story of the mighty "Champion of Kirkwall" so she could…figure some things out." Anders stared at him, eyes amused. "So I embellished…told her all these things before getting to the actual story. Once there…I told the seeker I was upset about introducing you two to each other," Varric whispered. Anders' brow pinched, somewhat upset since he considered Varric his only friend in Kirkwall. Sighing, the dwarf shook his head at this. "And a part of me still is, Blondie. But then again…"

"Varric…you don't need to pretend with me," Anders face looked pained. "I'm a murdering monster, and abomination, as the elf has said. I know it. Maybe Hawke doesn't say it but it is there, in her eyes when we do speak."

"Well, I wouldn't deny such a truth," Aveline said icily. Varric shot her a look. "But…you have taken good care of Hawke. For that, I cannot fault you, Mage." The woman looked down at her gauntlets. '_Or the fact that she loves you…how can I fault her for that? I gave into temptation in the fade, even when I knew Wesley was long perished.'_

"Okay…enough with the sentimental bullshit. As much as I love the "I'm-so-tortured-disown-me" mage act, can't you tell him the real reason we're here?"

Aveline and Varric both narrowed their eyes as Isabella sat up, yawning and stretching like a cat as she did so. Next to her, Hawke was still passed out, her small snores still heard by the group. Patting Hawke's hair like a loving older sister, Isabella drew the fur-skinned cover over their friend before scooting closer to the fire to replenish it. Upon having no luck she threw Anders an expectant look. When he said nothing and did nothing, either, she gestured to the fire, one hand on her hip while the other pointed to it. "Well?"

"What?"

"What else it magic good for if not to start a blasted fire in this cold death hole? Come on, then, Anders! Look lively!" She replied, eyebrows quirked and smile sly.

Shooting her a death look, Anders complied quietly, sending a small amount of fire to the twigs with his pyromantic magic. The red hue shot through his fingertips and the fire came to life, not blazing but warm enough that the Pirate Captain's face lit up with a smile again, her hands close to the flames. "There, happy Isabella?"

"I'm always happy, Anders! Especially when I have you're healing magic at my disposal," she quipped, undeterred by Aveline's glare. "What?"

"I don't even want to know what that means, Isabella," she answered.

The exotic beauty winked. "Wasn't planning on giving any lengthy explanation, lucky for you, Aveline."

Anders shifted his gaze back to Hawke who had now rolled over onto her side, hand flopping over her face to block out the obnoxious flames dancing over her closed eyelids. She didn't seem consciously aware of anything around her and for that, Ander was somewhat thankful. Since they'd started running she had slept less, ate less, and cared less, he thought. He wanted to watch over her, wanted to be there for her but Justice was a constant raging battle inside of him, demanding he forget about her. His friend demanded all sorts of things, most of which he was unwilling to comply with in the case of Hawke. He refused to leave her and these constant arguments with Justice in regards to her left him drained and his attention span diminished. He was lucky for a moment during the day when he was able to gaze upon Hawke in all her magnificent glory as they traveled. His body could sustain itself off of Justice alone. How he managed to stay as lean and muscled as he was remained a mystery to him, especially when living in Darktown had provided little means of survival, let a lone living. When he had lived with Hawke in her mansion he was thrilled, mostly with her presence; but he'd be lying if he didn't acknowledge the fact that a warm bed to sleep in and food to eat wasn't a big advantage. When she'd jested about locking him up, and he'd returned the joke, he hadn't actually thought she'd been serious.

'_How wrong I was about everything: the mages, the Templars, Justice, myself…and her._' He mused in is solitude as Varric, Isabella and Aveline started commenting on the pirate's lack of discretion. His mind was too focused on Hawke to care about what they discussed, the previous topic having been put on hold as well. He wanted to touch her, to brush his fingertips across her smooth skin, to feel her tremble in his arms. The physical aspect of their relationship had manifested itself in broken pieces along the way but his emotional longing for her outweighed all other aspects of their partnership. Being partners, clearly, wasn't enough for the young woman. And being mere partners didn't nearly satisfy the growing desire he felt towards her in all ways. The more time he spent with her the more it grew. He'd been able to hold back until those 4 years ago but as time continued to pass them by, his resolve lessened, his control of Justice slipping away and his power to sway the spirit inside him bursting at the seams. He didn't know what Justice had planned for them once he lost all control. Would he inhabit Anders' body without a piece of Anders left to cling to? What else would there be left of him for Hawke to love should the spirit win? Sometimes he wished for death, wished to return to the night he'd obliterated the chantry and Hawke could have given him death. His cause had been so blindingly important but seeing as to part of it had backfired most miraculously in his face, he was beginning to think he could have done it another way. Other days, he just wished Vengeance would disappear, find another host, and become Justice once again.

'**Distraction.'**

Anders bit back a retort, choosing not to let everyone around him know that he was slowly deteriorating away inside. He didn't want them to worry about Hawke's safety anymore than they already did, especially Aveline. The woman was a force to be reckoned with when angry, or when someone she cared about was hurt. His wallowing was brought to an abrupt halt when he caught Varric observing him closely, as if trying to decide how to approach him through the endless banter of the Pirate Queen and the Captain of the Guard. For once, he wished the damned Blood Mage was around so they could harp on her; or she could distract them by asking ridiculous questions. At this point he'd even take the Elf who despised him like the vile creature he was, opting to have the mage-hating man tear him down where he stood. He hated being observed. It had happened a lot when he was a Grey Warden. The Hero of Ferelden observed him at every given chance though back then. It was easier to crack jokes and make her laugh. He'd been carefree back then, free of a spirit, free of an abominable existence. He'd been free to love as he wanted—Templars considered of course. Had he met Hawke back then, he would've been the better Anders, the bitter but less psychotic Anders. He could never explain, not fully, to Hawke why he'd done what he had. He'd given her a brief explanation back in Kirkwall but that was all over.

'**She is going to make you stray from your path, from our destiny, mage!'**

'_Shut up! She is a mage, too. She understands our cause and she did not kill us or betray us. I betrayed her!'_ Anders mentally muttered the phrase to the Spirit in hopes that it would leave him be, at least for the night. Hawke whimpered next to him, her lashes fluttering for a moment and catching everyone's attention before she drifted back into a fitful sleep. Isabella muttered obscenities upon her plan being ruined by whatever dastardly nightmares plagued Hawke. Anders was sure they were nightmares of the Chantry, of the red beams of light that raised their arms towards the sky, of stones, granite and pebbles showering down upon them from the heavens above; of screams filling the air as the blast decimated all in its vicinity. Isabella, on the other hand, was sure they were of the night spent in Lowtown, of their journey from the wretched place to the Gallows where the Knight Commander and First Enchanter awaited her decision. And Aveline was sure they were nightmares of her family, of the deaths of her sister and the betrayal of her brother, of losing her mother to a Blood Mage. Varric was more than sure they were nightmares about everything, most centering around the Mage she loved, and an ideal she couldn't bear to walk away from anymore. Anders hung his head as the chatter kept up around him, his mind far from the cavern, drifting back to instances where he seemed the happiest despite his plans to kill innocents.

* * *

_Hawke's flawless face, stained with splatters of crimson, smiled back at him as she placed her staff, Eye of the Tiger, back in its resting place behind her. She seemed refreshed despite the fact that she'd just torn down a handful of Carta Thugs for a Lord in Orzimmar by the name of Harrowmont. To her side Aveline was sheathing her sword in satisfaction though she looked ready to rub her temples. Isabella was making lurid faces as she, too, sheathed her blades, content to push a strand of hair back and throw an inviting glance at Anders while she did so. Fenris had opted to tear more of his mansion apart while they dealt with the Carta underground. Merrill would not come out of her house, still obsessing over the Dalish Elvin mirror she'd discovered to be a part of her history. As for Varric, he was in the Hanged Man going over prospects and trying to find his betrayer of a brother, Bartrand. Since returning from the Deep Roads, Hawke had barely smiled at all, especially upon learning of Carver's recruitment into the Templar order. As a mage, as an apostate, she knew that her brother being a templar was blasphemous. But if it was what Carver wanted she would not argue. All she could do was try to comfort Leandra when the news was made; hoping her mother would at least find some happiness once their estate was restored._

_Anders didn't understand how she could've though. Her brother was gone, her sister dead and her mother, more or less, childless. Hawke had made this fact known at one point shortly after she'd gone to the bar and become so intoxicated that it took Fenris, Aveline and Anders to calm her down before returning her home. She had adamantly refused to go back to her Uncle's house, stating excuse after excuse why it was a terrible idea before eventually causing an outburst in Fenris' arms as they trekked back to her house, Anders' jealousy not evident but there all the same. He had recalled the occurrence so clearly it made him want to wring the Elf's neck, destroy anything Fenris felt for their friend. She'd stormed into The Hanged Man with all the fire of a burning house, her fists curled, her staff attached to its post on her back and her eyes furious. He thought, while taking a sip of his ale and ignoring Isabella's constant flirtatious comments, that he caught a glimpse of disappointed sadness there, too. However he didn't get to read into it too much before she was sitting down across from the Pirate, a bottle of whiskey in hand for but a second before she was suddenly chugging it down with a force he hadn't imagined. He almost swiped it from her but Isabella's cheering seemed to egg her on and it was practically gone the next instant. Once he did manage to snatch it from her, he knew it was too late. Her eyes glazed over and she began laughing hysterically. Isabella had backed off at this point as Hawke had stood up so quickly she stumbled backwards and pitched over the bench, giggling madly while tears slid down her cheeks when Fenris caught her. _

_Aveline was not present otherwise Hawke would've received the scolding of a lifetime, Anders surmised. But Fenris was not that much more forgiving as he snapped at her, concern and anger apparent in his emerald eyes, so much concern Anders wanted to light him on fire with the Hypnotist's staff Hawke had presented him with after killing Decimus from Starkhaven. He watched steadily, quietly, as Hawke swatted at the Elf's hair, twirling it around her fingers and missing the effect of Fenris' wrath. Sometimes she could be remarkably immature and cute at the same time, but now was not a result of her nature. Right now she was blocking out the betrayal of Carver, she was staving off the guilt she felt about Bethany, the hurt she felt for letting her mother down, again. Finally, after having his hair pulled for the 5__th__ time, Fenris gave up, looking at him and Isabella for help—though Anders' was sure the Elf had thrown him a hateful look. At a loss he said nothing and volunteered nothing though his fingers itched to take her from the slave's arms. Isabella stood quickly and went off to find Varric in hopes that he could suggest something. A couple feet away Merrill had all but turned into a mass of stuttering uncertainty as she tried to help but only angered Fenris more. He didn't particularly hate Merrill but he wasn't fond of her either. She used Blood Magic with a causal air that suggested she was more than naïve; but mostly just stupid. He thought as much when she suggested some sort of spell that could help alleviate Hawke's drunkenness—one he'd never heard of before—but required some blood. Fenris gave her a disgusted look and growled for her to shut up, starting the long known rant about mages being dirty creatures, corrupted monsters. Anders had just effectively tuned him out when Isabella returned with Varric, who was shaking his head._

"_Blondie, got any spells for this?"_

"_One shouldn't need to use magic for this!" Fenris spat, annoyed as Hawke laughed again, belching shortly there after. "As much as I would love to stay…I cannot help with…this."_

"_Don't worry about it, Fenris. We'll take care of her!" Isabella offered, hoisting Hawke into her own lap. Fenris seemed grumpy but did not leave. "Sheesh Hawke…you smell like pigs piss ale." Sighing, the pirate swatted at Hawke's incoming hand that was trying to remove the collar she kept around her neck. "Any other occasion and I'd take you up on this offer to remove my clothing."_

"_Always thinking lewd thoughts, right? Isabella, be helpful please," Anders snapped, not liking the look Isabella was giving Hawke. It was no secret that Isabella fancied women, too, especially Hawke._

_Isabella threw him a smirk. "Jealous, Anders? It is you in there, right Anders? I didn't think the stick-in-the-mud had the hots for our friend here!" Anders would've blushed scarlet if possible, anger and shock flowing through him. Instead he shot her a glare as she chuckled knowingly. _

"_Do you have a solution or not? Any spells?" Varric's voice barged into his thoughts._

_Anders shook his head. "She's drunk, Varric. Nothing I do will help her get over that except rest and maybe…a little healing spell in the morning when she gets a hangover. Perhaps someone should take her home."_

"_I'll do that, at least," Fenris said, immediately reaching for her again and sending a scornful look Anders' way. Just as Fenris picked up the now tearful woman, Aveline walked in, concern evident on her face. "Captain."_

_Aveline sighed in relief at seeing Hawke okay, all things considered. "Thankfully Merrill was able to catch me in time." She nodded to the mage who smiled proudly. "It's wonder she didn't get caught. Lucky her I was doing my shift in Lowtown tonight." Hawke suddenly seemed to realize that Aveline was there and began calling out to her. The red-haired woman shook her head. "Who let her have so much to drink?"_

"_You wouldn't believe it Aveline, but she bought a bottle of whiskey and drank most of it before she even sat down!" Isabella reiterated the story so proudly that no one was surprised when Aveline narrowed her eyes at the pirate in suspicion. "Okay well…I sort of did cheer her on. But come on, Aveline, she never has any fun!"_

"_I hardly call drinking a bottle of whiskey following this week's events a 'fun" time, Isabella," the Captain rebuffed. "I swear you're the worst influence here…"_

"_I resent that, Aveline! Just when I thought we were becoming such good friends!"_

"_Be that as it may, she cannot stay here. She's dissolving into a puddle of tears as we speak," Anders pointed to Hawke who was indeed tearing up so heavily that she was now clinging, most ridiculously, to Fenris' neck like a child who'd lost her play toy. "Suggestions?" _

"_She needs to go home," the elf supplied, his grip on her tight as he stared daggers into Anders. "I will take her."_

"_I will go with you." Aveline shouldered her shield as she waved goodnight to them. She and Fenris were almost to the door when the Captain turned around. "Anders, you should come with us. She may need some healing. She looks pretty banged up right now. Are you sure she didn't do anything crazy on the way here?"_

_Isabella, Merrill, Varric and Anders all shrugged at once though it was the abomination that answered, much to Fenris' dismay. "No. We were already all here when she walked in. She may have run into the Coterie on the way." _

_Sighing, Aveline looked down at the ground, seemingly disappointed. "In any event…you should accompany us. I'm not sure how she will react when we take her back to her Uncle's."_

_Nodding, Anders quickly followed behind them, bidding the rest of their party good night before stepping into the chilly night air with the Captain and Elf. He was silent most of the way, much like Aveline and Fenris, when Hawke suddenly started talking to the elf. She seemed somewhat lucid but then, the next thing he knew, she was kicking and trying to punch Fenris in the face. Alarmed by the sudden outburst, Aveline quickly helped the elf set her down while steadying her at the same time. Anders watched on from the back, trying to get a sense of what had happened. He didn't have to strain much to hear what she was saying as she began shouting._

"_No! I won't go back there! You don't understand!"_

_Aveline was trying to calm her but she wasn't having much success. "Hawke, please. Your mother must be worried about you."_

"_The hell she is!" Hawke screamed, tears streaming openly down her face. She reached for her staff but Fenris snatched it away. "Leave me the hell alone. You don't get it. I've disappointed her. First Bethany, now Carver. What kind of daughter am I? An apostate! I'm a disgusting, filthy apostate who is in over my head!" the tears from earlier seemed to fade away as she collapsed to the floor, hugging herself. Fenris and Aveline watched silently, unsure of what to do when Anders felt it. It was small at first, then it began to grow, the current of magic sparking Vengeance within him—a warning. Without a word he dove towards Hawke, throwing her backwards where she landed flat on her back with a loud yelp. Fenris and Aveline stepped back, surprise on their faces as Anders kneeled back, panting from having sprinted so far. Anger was shining in Hawke's eyes as she reached up and slapped him hard across the face. "Bastard!" Anders said nothing though the burn of her hardened palm was fresh on his skin. "Why did you stop me? I want to be destroyed! I want this to all end…all of it…" she started sobbing again, hiccups erupting from her lips as he hands glowed a soft blue, ice collecting at the tips of her fingers. "Please…I just want it to stop…"_

_Fenris backed off. "Magic…she was…"_

_Aveline frowned. "Was she going to use it…on us?"_

_Anders shook his head. "No. She was going to use it on herself…to end the suffering."_

"_Like the Sarabas…" Fenris trailed, relaxing a bit. "She was going to…"_

"_Self-destruct. Hawke would never use her magic to harm any of us," Anders snapped, angry that Fenris had suggested the possibility of her being an evil mage. "She's in much pain."_

"_I think that…you should take it from here, Anders," Aveline consented. "Fenris…you are too conspicuous here. You should return to your mansion. I will have to talk to you about that, soon."_

_Scowling, Fenris agreed though very begrudgingly. He turned away just as Anders reached out to pick up the sobbing form of Hawke. His lips curled up in torment as he heard the abomination whispering to the woman he felt so strongly about. 'Disgusting.' He thought as he began stalking away towards Hightown. He could hear Aveline behind him but made no move to look back for fear that he might just loose his drink at the sight of Anders holding the woman he was falling for. Shortly after their departure, he had managed to calm her down just enough to get her talking. She refused to move from her spot, pushing him away violently when he tried to pick her up. Deciding it was her pride that kept her there he suggested that he help her walk. This, too, she refused most adamantly, lashing out again when he offered her support. She sneered at him, telling him to go away as she sat rooted to her spot with her hair covering her face. He couldn't make out what facial expression she held but judging by the sniffling and soft sobs coming from her, he assumed it was pain. He waited there with her, his knees aching slightly as he remained in a kneeling position should she require help standing after all. For what felt like an eternity he stayed there, next to her, not touching her, not venturing to comfort her with more than his presence. _

"_Maybe I will become an abomination someday," she whispered._

_Anders blinked, aghast. "Surely you can't mean that Hawke."_

"_I don't want to keep fighting anymore."_

"_That's the alcohol talking, trust me," he replied soothingly. "You're upset. It's alright. You need your rest."_

"_Why do you do that?"_

_He blinked again, confused. "Do what?"_

_She brought her gaze to meet his, watery eyes questioning even as her lips trembled. "Why do you always want to help me, support me, stop me from becoming everything I fear? But when I get too close…you cast me aside?" _

_It was a concept Anders had been, purposely, avoiding for the last few years since they'd become friends. He could not bear to taint her. She wasn't perfect but she was mostly good, at least at heart. Feeling an inkling of his old personality, though it was tainted with the slightest bitterness, Anders smiled at her. "Hawke, you're far too beautiful to cast aside. I used to tell the Hero of Ferelden that Andraste was a looker. But she's got nothing on you."_

_Hawke laughed a little, her eyes squinting in reaction as another tear fell. "That's the worst type of comfort, Anders."_

"_It made you laugh though, didn't it?" He smiled again, genuinely. _

_She nodded. "Yes…I'm sorry. I should be getting home now." When he nodded his agreement Hawke's hand suddenly shot out, latching on to his. "Wait…Anders…I can't return home. I just…" she looked so broken when she said it. "I can't…please. Fenris and Aveline…they don't understand why it's so hard…I can't return home. I won't."_

_He could see the defiance in her eyes, the obstinacy and mostly, he could see the fear. That one emotion made Anders want to gather her in his arms and hold her close, whisper to her that he would take care of it. But he knew he could not do this. Closing his eyes and clenching his hands in denial, she stared at him looking helpless, if it was even possible for her. He, too, let the rigid refusal take control of him, hell bent on not taking her anywhere near his clinic. Shaking his head, he tried to help her up again. "Hawke…you have to go home. You cannot come to the clinic." She looked sheepish at having been discovered. "You need to rest. The Clinic is uncomfortable and your mother will be worried. Don't pretend that she won't be. You're still her daughter." _

"_I've slept on worse, you know," she answered. When she realized he wasn't about to be swayed she threw her hands up in the air though it unbalanced her and she toppled sideways. He gently caught her right before she smacked sideways into the pavement, his calloused but gentle hands righting her. Blowing out a puff of air she finally nodded. "Fine…you win. I won't go to the Clinic. But I absolutely refuse to go home. My mother will be worried, you're all right. But I…I can't face her, not right now."_

_Shame._

_He could sense it reverberating through every cell in her body, the feeling rolling off of her in thick waves he picked up solely through her expression. It didn't seem to help that it emanated from her magic, too, wafting off her through the small icy currents she sent out unknowingly. As an experienced, controlled and former mage of the circle he could sense things she could not due to an extensive amount of training. After 7 escape attempts from the Circle in Ferelden, he supposed he would have to have gained some sort of insight into apostates. For all their magic most seemed to lack a fair amount of training and skill. He figured this is why so many turned to Blood Magic. But not Hawke. He would often catch her reading books, or training outside as though trying to hone her skills. He wondered, for the longest time, what she'd been trying to protect—surely not another mage. When he'd discovered she was simply trying to regain her family's title and provide for them, he had found her amazing. 'And unsuitable for someone as selfish am I have become.' The rivalry between Hawke and her brother had been stifling when they'd first met. Clearly the younger brother was bitter and jealous of his sister, his apostate sister. Anders wouldn't admit it to anyone but himself, yet he found the rivalry refreshing as it reminded him, somewhat, of the interactions between Nathaniel Howe and Velanna minus the relation. The fact that they'd all been Warden's together trying to clean up the results of the Blight was interesting enough in itself. 'The days when the Circle…'_

_Shaking the thought from his head he reached for her arms as he spoke. "I'm going to regret this very much."_

_She wanted to snicker but regaining her balance seemed such a challenge she couldn't focus her attention on anything else. "Anders…"_

"_Hawke, please be silent. I cannot take you to my Clinic but as you ardently refuse to return home I am forced to…come up with alternative means of a temporary shelter." He slowly began leading her in the direction of the docks. "Come on then."_

"_Where are we going?" She asked, her voice strong, demanding. Had she been in any other condition he would've sworn she was perfectly sober. But after what he witnessed he was sure she was putting on a show for him, pretending. "Anders?"_

"_Just follow me, Hawke. I don't want to have to zap you with lightening for asking fool questions." He chuckled at her face, her mouth hanging open._

"_Not…" she seemed to be fishing for a good comeback when she tripped over her own robes, falling unceremoniously to the floor. "Shit…" Silence ensued and her thought she was reorienting herself but was mistaken when she glared at him. "Hey! I do magic too!" She stared at his outstretched hand as though it had grown extra fingers. "Where are you going to take me?"_

_He smiled secretively. "It's a…surprise. Trust me Hawke, just this once."_

_Gingerly she took it, sliding her fingers between his as he assisted her in standing. She felt heavy in his grip due to her lack of strength; the alcohol had robbed her of all of it. Sighing, Hawke readjusted her weight as Anders swung her arm over his shoulder. He carefully placed his other around her waist, sure not to obstruct both their weapons incase of an ambush. In Lowtown there wasn't much fear regarding Templars. Not as much as in Hightown. They did occasionally visit his clinic to search the refugees but by that time he had, conveniently, disappeared. Or was out with Hawke cleaning up the rest of Kirkwall. He couldn't ask her to trust him more than in this one instance, not when she was so pure-hearted._

"_Anders…I don't feel so good…"_

_He braced himself as they stopped walking, his hands diecting her towards an offside of the docks where water was flowing next to an adjacent wall. It was only mere seconds before she was expelling all the whiskey from her painted lips. He held her as her, rubbing her back and smoothing her hair as her retching intensified and grew violent. He heard her choke back a pained sob as she dry heaved a couple more times. After a few minutes passed she was able to stop, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. _

"_Oh Maker…that was as disgusting coming out as it was going in," she whispered. Anders would've laughed but Hawke had fallen silent again. She seemed tired, her body sagging harshly against his own as her staff clattered to the ground. He glanced down to find her gazing up at him through sleep-hooded lids. "I'm sorry for all this…what a terrible night this has been," she said with a deep, regret filled breath. "I think I can…walk from here now. Thank you, Anders."_

_Without warning, and against his better judgment, Anders slipped an arm under the crook of her knees, quickly picking her up. Disoriented, she didn't have time to protest as she felt dizziness wash over her mind. She held her head as she clutched Anders shoulder pauldrons for security. The feathers felt soft in her grasp and a sudden wave of drowsiness came over her. So sudden she began to suspect that Anders had used a spell to ease her suffering. _

"_If you're wondering if I used a sleep spell, then yes," he said. "A very mild one. Does this bother you?"_

_Hawke sighed. "You're trying to pacify me in order to return me home."_

_A chuckle followed this statement. "My dear lady, this is not so, I assure you. I refuse to face your wrath should I choose to go against your wishes."_

"_It's good to know you wouldn't dare," she responded with a light slu, her hand covering her eyes from the dim lighting in Lowtown. "Andraste above…"_

"_Do I sense the hangover overtaking you already?"_

_Hawke sighed again. "Anders…"_

_He offered her a small, crooked smile. "My apologies._

_She let her hand fall back against his shoulder armor, rubbing her cheek against the comfortable feathers. "I'm so very…sleepy…"_

"_Then rest, Hawke." Again she looked at him expectantly. "Don't worry. I'll make sure wherever I take you is safe. We mages have to stick together. Now, rest."_

_After a few moments the sleep spell, coupled with the effects of the strong alcohol, managed to overcome her, much to Anders' relief. He could hear light snores leaving her lips and feel the light reverberations her body made against his as she rested. He wasn't exactly sure where he would take her now, only sure he would not be taking her to his clinic. It was unsafe, especially for both of them as mages, and his as a wanted apostate. As the Champion of Kirkwall, he couldn't expect her to want someone like him whether she displayed as much or not. Their subtle flirting had grown over the years—mostly as Hawke's own instigation—but he continued to refuse her, outwardly. At night he dreamed of her, of the flawless nature of both her physical appearance and her untainted soul. How he measured this would probably seem twisted to some but as a fellow mage with a dead apostate sister and now Templar brother, he admired her every strength. Her resilience inspired him to continue his fight against Justice, inspired him to continue saving a piece of him that would forever remain Anders. However, each day it grew more difficult. When she was around he found himself distracted and losing control of Justice more and more, the spirit demanding his focus his mind on their reasons for being in Kirkwall. _

'_But what if I should choose to forget about our reasons for being here?'_

'_**You will not forget, Mage. We have a purpose. Only once the purpose is complete are we done.'**_

'_It makes no difference. Once complete you will not leave.' Anders shook his head as he heard Justice's words again, this time louder, like a pounding on his brain that left scorch marks. _

'_**This was your choice, mage.'**_

_As he came upon the docks where ships drifted lazily, listlessly, back and forth over the waters surface, he suddenly wished to return to Vigil's keep, wishing he had, for once, listened to reason. Perhaps if he had listened to the Warden Commander he wouldn't be here. 'It's too late…there is no going back.' He glanced down at Hawke again, a tortured expression placing his face as she smiled at him through her sleep._

"_We mages need…stick together…always."_

_Inside, Anders felt the screams building._

* * *

_**OMFG…chapter two completed. I can't believe it but I wrote it before I posted Chapter one, and finished it. It's amazing what idle time, good music and a good work day does for one's creative energy and flow. I have to thank my BF for introducing me to this game; otherwise I would never have met Anders and Hawke, or the Hero of Ferelden. Too bad said BF hates Anders…oh well. Fangirls/Fanboys unite! On the other hand, said BF doesn't know I secretly am enamored with Isabella, too. ^.^ She's wonderful! Anyway, please R & R, if you want. Thanks.**_

_**~sadistickuanis**_


	3. Chapter 3

Note to Disclaimers: I do not and never will own Dragon Age: Origins, Awakening, or Dragon Age 2, etc. All characters are the property of BioWare, and this is NOT for profit.

A/N: Chapter 3! The pairing remains FemHawke(mage)/Anders but there will be references to a past slight romance with Fenris. He'll have someone, probably not a pairing anyone will like but eh. You like it, you read. You don't well…yeah. Constructive Criticism is welcome. Thanks.

'_Thought' & Flashbacks_

"**Justice"**

"Speaking"

Everything else

* * *

**Praevāricātor (Chapter 3)**

_Hawke felt like her world was crumbling around her, the pieces slowly falling away to reveal a treacherous path in their wake. She already knew she was damned for siding with the Mages; damned for letting Anders live; damned for dragging her friends with her. She was back where she started when fleeing Lothering, when arriving in Kirkwall. She was back to running, again. '6 years…6 years I worked for this…and for what?' The bitterness in her thoughts wasn't surprising, nor was the taste of blood that seemed to slide through the crevices in her mouth, weighted but gentle like a lover's kiss. It automatically made her thoughts focus on Anders, the source of all her frustration as of the late. At the present she wondered if she should've given him what he wanted that night in Lowtown. Perhaps she should've killed him. 'No…it would've made him a martyr and he still has to pay for what he did.' Her convictions on this were strong but there was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that this was not the real reason she kept him alive that night. It was true he had helped them defeat the Templars and stood up, again, for his cause and the mages. But she wasn't sure she could ever get over his methods. Killing the Grand Cleric and all those around her had been a suicidal risk, a wish falling short of deserved death. He had killed innocents. How many more would he sacrifice for their ideal world?_

'_That may be…but let's not forget the innocents Meredith killed, either.' Two wrongs didn't make a right, as the saying went. And she knew Anders' destruction of the Chantry would never be right. She was past the point of trying to vouch that it was. At this juncture in time all she wanted was to know that Meredith had been seen as a monster as well, that the people recognized a power hungry, controlling tyrant. She may have given them justice in one way but at what cost to innocent mages? How many families had she, too, torn apart with her selfish need to reap her personal form of Justice? 'I've had about enough of this concept of…justice.' If one thing was certain, it was that every person she'd met along the way—not excluding herself—had sought to bestow the concept, the ideal of justice in his or her own way. And in the end, all it had done was blow up in all of their faces, most unceremoniously. The literal "blowing up" of the Chantry had been one form; the Circle and Right of Annulment revoked by the Knight Commander had been another; Orsino's fall into the temptation of Blood magic had been one more; and her refrain from killing Anders' that night, she saw, as another form of personal justice. _

_But Maker, she hated that word now, more than ever. _

_Hawke had never thought to meet a spirit, especially not one that had claimed to be so good, one that claimed to be the reprieve for all wronged souls in the world. Of course, she couldn't deny the facts: Anders had told her that his ideals had warped Justice into something else, something viscous now known as Vengeance. He had explained that it was not the spirit's fault that it no longer wore the brand of Justice. This made Hawke's mind weary and she tossed and turned in her sleep. It was strange though, because despite these thoughts and horrors, she found herself back in her mansion. She was wrapped up, stiflingly, in her crimson comforter, the fire blazing to the side. She could hear Leandra's comforting laughter drifting through her opened door, and her loyal Mabari's barks of happiness. She suddenly realized this was not reality. 'Mother is dead. I don't know what happened to my dog, either.' Throwing the covers to the floor, she discovered she was still wearing her mage's robes as well. 'Am I…in the Fade again?' The last time she'd been there was when they'd rescued Fenryiel. 'And with Justice, no less.' Recalling the eerie feeling she'd received when entering the Fade with Anders made her shiver; she should've known that Justice would soon replace the gentle mage once inside "his" realm. It wasn't until he'd re-introduced himself that she'd remembered it, or accepted that he truly was an abomination. _

_Shaking the thought away she proceeded outside of her room in search of the demon playing tricks on her mind, trying to seduce her into a false sense of security and a world that was no closer to being reality that it was a dream. 'Out, foul demon!' she thought with acrid certainty, something she didn't have to fake one bit. 'A desire demon, perhaps?' How she'd ended up in the Fade tonight of all nights was still a mystery; when dreaming before, she'd never entered the Fade. Was today a special occasion she couldn't recall? She doubted it, but decided to end the charade before it went any further—she was in no mood for mind games. Exiting the room she found the rest of her estate relatively the same with the exception of Leandra speaking to Bodhain by the firelight. Sighing to herself, she made her way downstairs, ready to deal with the demon so she could continue to use her rational to save her and her friends. She was about to open her mouth when Leandra spun around looking as beautiful as she did before her untimely passing. Shaking her head, Hawke crossed her arms._

"_What do you want, demon?" _

_Her mother smiled. "My dear girl, what nonsense are you speaking of? I'm glad you're awake, however. I was about to send your sister upstairs to retrieve you!"_

"_Sister…? Bethany?" Hawke's lips could barely forms the words when Bethany bounded out from behind the door by Sandal. "Be-Bethany?"_

_Her sister smiled warmly. "Oh, sister! I'm so glad you're here. Carver and I were about to come looking for you."_

"_Carver…?" Incredulous, Hawke remained rooted to her spot as Leandra and Bethany laughed as though none of them had ever been separated, as though they'd never fled from Lothering. The comfortable manner in which they frolicked in the estate was unusually soothing to her, and Hawke had to shake her head to remember she was dreaming. "No…none of you are real. This is the Fade, this is an illusion."_

_Bethany giggled. "Sister…what are you talking about? Don't be so silly. Mother and I were just about to suggest you join us for a shopping trip in the Hightown market district. The Amell's should always be well dressed."_

"_No!" Hawke shouted, drawing her staff from behind her back upon realizing that, while her "family" members wore expensive clothes like that of a noble, she was still wearing her enchanted robes. "You are not my family, demons!"_

_Immediately the illusion melted away to reveal desire demons all around her, their sweet whispers of sating swirling around her like a blanket of lies. Angry, Hawke slammed her staff down hard, the wooden stick emitting bolts of electricity that took down the first of the desire demons sidling its way towards her. The others paused before her, calculating. _

"_No need to be so brash, mortal. We are here to ease your pain and suffering. Let us…and you will not regret it."_

_Closing her eyes, Hawke refused. "No! You will not trick me into a delusion. My family…" she trailed as she choked horribly on the words. "My family is dead and nothing you can do will return them to me! I will destroy you, foul creatures!" Whispering the words, she cast her deadliest spell. Tempest rained about the desire demons, their howls and screeches of agony like music to her ears as she fell down in the middle, her shield and armor protecting her as she held in a myriad of tears that threatened to fall from her eyelids. The Fade may not have been real but it didn't mean the motions coursing through her were any more false. Cringing as the last of the demons fell to her power; Hawke felt the tears threatening to spill over. She steeled herself to hold them back, hugging herself with her arms and willing her mind to jolt itself back into reality. 'Please…' she rocked back and forth in her spot, the nothingness around her becoming suffocating as she tried desperately to get back to the reality. Though it was no better than her current hell, Hawke knew it was far more manageable that the Fade. After a moment she opened her eyes only to find herself still in the Fade. 'Why…why can't I leave?'_

"_Hawke?"_

_Whipping around she searched the area for the voice of the person. "Aveline? Isabella? Varric?" When no one answered, she became frantic. She was running around her mansion, the corpses of the demons littering the floor. She tripped over one and fell hard on her hands to brace her from hitting her face. Again she called out when the voice spoke for the second time, sounding barely above a whisper. "Fenris? Merrill?" Again, nothing. "Please…I don't want to stay here!"_

"_**Hawke…"**_

_Then she recognized it. The voice laughed scornfully and she bit back a glare. "Justice…"_

"_**You will not trespass on our destiny any longer. I will be rid of you!"**_

_Hawke glanced around but could not find anyone in view. "Justice, I will destroy you! I will!"_

"_**Not unless you want to destroy him, too."**_

_Blanching, Hawke paused. "I…"_

"_WAKE UP, HAWKE!"_

Hawke sat upright so fast that she smacked straight into Aveline's forehead, muttering a loud curse and clutching her head. Aveline fell back, rubbing her own bruised forehead as Anders immediately stepped in and cast a healing spell on her, then turned his attention to Hawke. Thankful for the dull throb that disappeared after the spell, Aveline reached for her helm. "Hawke…you've been asleep for an entire day. That whiskey sure did the trick." She glared at Isabella who only winked. "How are you feeling?"

"An entire day?" She was still getting adjusted, not even realizing that Anders was beside her. "I was having nightmares."

"I'll say, Hawke," Isabella replied while flexing her blades. "You were thrashing and shouting."

Embarrassed, the Champion shook her head before turning to the Mage beside her. "Anders…you're still here." Her tone was flat as she gazed up at him. He nodded, giving her a small weak smile as he turned to go speak to Varric. Hawke turned back to Aveline. "I thought he had…left."

"Not permanently." The pirate dusted off her legs. "Like he would. That brooding mage loves you, Hawke. You know that."

Hanging her head, Hawke looked away. "Does he? You wouldn't believe it if you were here the last few months." When no one said a word Hawke stood and reached for her staff. "Aveline, you must have a reason to be here. I suggest you spit it out so we can get moving."

Sighing, the Captain nodded, not liking Hawke's sudden change of mood. "Yes…I was explaining to everyone here that The Seeker of the Chantry managed to interrogate Varric." Hawke's eyes widened. "She is searching for you, and…the Hero of Ferelden."

"What? The Hero has disappeared?"

Aveline nodded again, this time in irritation. "Yes. We must find her. It was not a mission assigned to us but Hawke, we've always done what is right. We must fix this. The Hero is missing, the Chantry has been thrown into chaos and the Circles have all gone rogue as a result of…well, you know the rest." The mage in question winced when Aveline referenced his atrocity but he said nothing. "We must find the Hero. She disappeared so suddenly…it's suspicious. Even Anders has agreed that this is unusual. He has informed me that she would never abandon her post as the Grey Warden Commander. I anticipate that Amaranthine is some days time from here. But if we leave soon we should be able to arrive with enough time before the Templars find us."

Hawke held up her hands. "Hold on, Aveline. What are you saying? You want me to lead us on a possible suicide mission through the rest of the Free Marches to find the missing Hero of Ferelden? How? I don't even know where to begin. I'm being hunted! Can I even lead a party, properly, without being apprehended or executed on sight? I don't even know where to start looking!"

"I do," Anders said in a voice barely above a whisper. "And I anticipate that if anyone would be executed on sight without an ounce of mercy, it would be me, Hawke."

Hawke swallowed her smart ass retort as Anders emerged. His face was neutral for once. "Do you? And how would you know where to find her?"

"I don't know where to find her, per say, but…the Warden Commander is my friend. She saved me from the Templars and the Darkspawn. As a Grey Warden…I must heed that call. I know that Vigil's Keep is the best place to start, given it hasn't been overrun by Templars and the Circle. Most Grey Wardens do not get involved in the politics of society; you've seen that first hand. They focus solely on the Blight and come when needed. Without the Blight…there is not much else." He scratched his head in frustration. "Of course…this means I will have to…speak to Nathaniel. I can't believe that King Alistair hasn't sent out more search parties to find her, either."

"Nathaniel Howe?" Varric asked. "Right, he's a Warden. Well, Captain, if we're going to do this, we need to get the rest of the party here, first."

Aveline agreed. "Right. Hawke, Isabella, Varric and I will be back in two days time with the rest of the party. Do not leave this post until then. Once we've returned then we can set off for Vigil's Keep at Anders' direction. Be careful, Hawke."

And just like that they were gone through the cave mouth. The blizzard had long since ended, the opening shrouded by snow but the sun shining magnificently outside. The silence that encompassed Hawke and Anders was thick, full of tension she didn't know how to cut through. Curbing her anger and annoyance, Hawke made her way towards the opening, ignoring Anders the entire time. Once there she stared out. '_I'm hungry…_' her stomach growled in response, showing her obvious hunger as she'd been denying her body food as of the late. She heard shuffling behind her and turned to see her fellow mage laying out his pack. She soon realized he had never slept. '_Did he…where was he?_' He didn't utter a word to her while he worked on his task, silent and diligent. It made her want to scream, pull her hair out, and destroy something. Breathing in deeply, Hawke brought her eyes back to the outside. Everything was blanketed in a thick, pristine layer of white. It looked so inviting that she couldn't resist touching the cold surface, smiling a little as she recalled winter time in Lothering. Snowball fights with Bethany and Carver had always been the highlight of the winter season. The aftermath of destroyed crops, however, wasn't her favorite. Mentally slapping herself for returning to such a dark place, Hawke turned back to Anders, determined to make things less awkward.

"Do we have enough food for two days time? I'm thinking we should've mentioned this to Aveline before she left."

Anders nodded quietly before responding. "Yes…we have just enough."

Throwing up her hands at his lack of reaction, Hawke stomped back over to him. "Enough, Anders! Enough!" He blinked at her, the sadness and confusion in his eyes burning so starkly that she felt her heart clench involuntarily. "Regardless of what has happened we are friends, and companions on this quest. We cannot be fighting if we are going to find the Warden Commander."

Nodding his agreement, Anders extended his hand. "Should we shake on it then, Champion?"

While she could understand his trying to lighten the mood, the title made her sick to her stomach, especially coming from him. She was still so angry with him after all the past months but not because of the Chantry. Still not condoning what he did, she knew there was no point in dwelling on it if she ever wanted to make him repent and face retribution for his crime. Yes, it was a crime to kill innocents, and it was not justifiable by his cause. He was a murderer, principals aside. She would make him pay for what he had done, loving him not factoring into her decision. And after it was all done, she would still love him. That her friends stayed with her despite her love for the man, the mage of destruction, she was almost positive that, one day, Aveline would strike Anders down where he stood. Convictions had proven to be detrimental for everyone around her. If Aveline didn't take the chance to slay him then she knew Fenris would willingly step up to the plate. He had followed her, too, in the end; but not at a price. As a slave he had very little left to cling to but Hawke had made sure he did not lose himself in his own hate. He was her friend and she felt as though all of them carried their own burdens, had killed innocents at one point in their lives. Internally kicking herself she train wrecked the thought in animosity—she was justifying again.

She glared at his outstretched hand before whirling around. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Ridiculous? Why Hawke, I'm offended. You are, and will always be, the Champion of Kirkwall. And I will call you such. That title, I'll have you know, gave me the chance to shoot lightning at fools, be with a pretty girl and have a decent meal."

She would've laughed had it been any other occasion. Instead she ignored him and the very heavy sigh he let leave his lips as he returned to whatever task she'd interrupted. He must've realized it was a very tasteless joke, even if it was to lighten the mood. To herself, however, she let the barest of smiles trace her lips, knowing that this was the Anders he'd been before he'd merged with the spirit. It was refreshing to know he had been such a flirt, a carefree man not worried about the Blight or the fact that he'd been forced into the Grey Wardens. For a moment she envied the Grey Warden Commander. The Hero of Ferelden was able to see a side of the man she now loved; a side that she was sure would never be seen again. Her heart trembled within its cage as she felt the jealousy, for someone she'd never met, for the Hero of Ferelden no less, creep into her veins like one of Tomwise's poisons. It felt toxic and foreign, and she didn't like it one bit. Hawke couldn't let her feelings take over all rational thought, especially now that they were about to embark on a dangerous journey back into Ferelden territory where the Templars and Circle were surely waiting to kill them. She may have freed the mages and fought for them as a result of Anders' mutiny; but it didn't mean they'd liked the forced hand they'd been given. She'd be lucky if all of Thedas didn't want to execute the lot of them on sight. She constantly felt anger; fear, uncertainty and despair grip her when she thought about the many lives she'd ruined. Eventually this train of thought would lead her back to Anders and how he'd pushed her off the cliff into oblivion below.

"_We chose to go with you. Our lives would have, eventually, been ruined when Orsino and Meredith made us choose. I follow you, Hawke. No matter what."_

Aveline's words, strong and firm, brought little comfort to her despite the softness in which they'd been delivered. The Captain of the Guard had pledged herself to friendship over a cause, over politics. How could Hawke be upset with such a righteous woman? She knew Aveline did not agree one bit with what had happened but she knew the red-haired woman was dedicated and loyal. '_I'm lucky that she is my friend._' She had to snicker to herself when the same thought rounded on Isabella, the rogue pirate queen that treated the entire world like her playground, like her conquest. The fact that such a vivacious and free woman chose to follow her always left Hawke a bit surprised, and mildly flattered though she wouldn't admit it. But she'd be lying if she didn't think it was a great idea to have her around for her boat as well. Isabella's friendship meant the world to Hawke. She and Varric were the laughter that replaced the seriousness of Aveline, the uncertainty of Merrill, the brooding of Fenris and the shunning from Carver. In fact, when she gave it deeper thought, all these wonderful things kept her distracted from the real issue she faced—Anders. When her mind wasn't trying to figure out ways to further break down his seemingly steel fortress, it was busy having philosophical debates in the dark about his entire being. This, usually, resulted in a headache or some other form of aching throughout her body. Her stress always manifested itself in the worst ways, mostly physically. And mostly, they were things Anders would quickly heal to cover up or dull the pain. She knew that this should've been a good thing but he did it so often she began to feel like she was being consistently pacified. How was she supposed to win a fight when she always felt as though she was barely hanging on? She missed Bethany terribly; she wouldn't dare voice that she'd rather not speak to Carver again. They had united against Meredith in the end, templar title still standing, but she wasn't sure she considered a real truce. She didn't even know where he was anymore. They'd all fled but she couldn't quite remember where he'd run off to, much too concerned about hiding.

'_I'm selfish,'_ she thought bitterly. '_I chose Anders over my family. Foolish girl._'

"Hawke, there's something I've been meaning to say."

His voice sliced through her thoughts like a knife, unwelcomed and harsh. She wasn't sure if it was because of the anger she felt towards him, or because he had interrupted her internal monologue of punishment and loathing. Regardless, when she rounded on him, eyes narrowed and fists balled up so tight her skin had turned white, Anders wasn't really sure he should continue. "What is it?"

He felt a wave of nausea sweep over him, unsure of how she would react to his apology. He'd barely apologized for anything that had happened since they'd fled Kirkwall. For this, he felt terrible. But Vengeance didn't have a need to feel sympathy—only revenge. Holding up his hands, he began to speak softly. "Hawke I am…truly sorry for all that has happened. I never wanted to drag you down with me in the Mages' plight." He paused. '_I wanted to…but never meant to would've been more honest.'_ She only stared at him, her face unreadable as he continued. "I realize that this was not your war, your being a mage aside. I should have…I should've trusted you."

"Yes," she snapped forcefully. "You should have! If you had we wouldn't be here in this ungodly mess! Maker, you killed innocents Anders, and for what? To save Mages who turned to Blood Magic anyway? It was a waste of your time, a folly! You failed, and now we have no lives to return to!" Hawke knew she was treading on dangerous ground with her speech but she was so angry she didn't care anymore. She could see the blue cracks glowing throughout his skin and she knew she'd hit a nerve. She'd hit a very sensitive nerve in Vengeance and she waited with baited breath for him to spring forth. The wise, seasoned champion rational in her told her to stop; but the Hawke in her, the mage told her to end this, to rid the world of another corrupted abomination. So she pressed on, throwing caution to the wind. "If you had confided in me instead of listening to that Spirit, we could have gone to the Chantry together and spoken to the Grand Cleric! Your Manifesto would've been far more convincing! Instead, you've ruined everything, and you're barely apologizing now?"

Anders was on his feet seconds later, his hands shoving Hawke, by her shoulders, into the cavern wall. The blue flames that surrounded him and licked at her mages threads felt cool to the skin. Hawke shivered but whether from fear, withheld anger or the magic was uncertain. All she knew was that she was staring into the eyes of the maddened spirit, her mind unyielding and no sympathy on her face. She was more than sure it was sheer hatred for Justice that helped her maintain her composure when faced with the very present possibility of death at his hands.

"**Blasphemous, putrid, deceptive mage! You would turn on your own kind and condemn us for what we have sought to do, to the justice we have set out to bestow upon this entire realm! You know not of what Anders and I have done to accomplish this, to avenge every last mage and destroy the Templars!"**

Hawke stared at him, defiant and unwilling to listen to his raving. "Bullshit, spirit! You have inhabited Anders to exact your revenge. I no longer care whether it was his ideals that have twisted you so; such a detail no longer matters. You are no longer welcome in his body. Now who is really corrupted?" She spit at him, despite the knowledge that it was Anders holding her. "I'm going to find a way to rid him of your foul existence." The strong hands that held her trembled slightly and Hawke became aware that Anders was fighting the spirit internally. His grip began to loosen and she shot him the dirtiest scowl. "Leave, spirit. Now."

"**Watch yourself, Mage. Your friend will not always be here to save you. You should be silenced and I will be the one to do so. You are on bided time. I will rid him of this distraction."**

Seconds later Hawke found herself falling back against the cavern wall as Anders backed away so quickly she'd swear he'd been burned. He was panting heavily, a light sheen of perspiration coating his skin as he whimpered like a beaten animal. He held a hand to his head as he shook over and over again, cursing, muttering words she could not hear or understand. While Hawke felt sorry for him, while she wanted to reach out and comfort him she stood her ground, not chancing that Vengeance may return. The silence in the cave was threatening, only barely interrupted by Anders' soft pants and shuffling footsteps as he backed away so far that he ended up tripping over their supplies. Hawke burst into action without thinking, rushing over to him as his back hit the floor and he shivered. She quickly hoisted his upper body into her arms, reaching for her cowl to wipe the sweat from his brow. '_It's getting worse,_' she thought as she fought the urge to punch him, soothing him with whispered promises of better times to come.

"Ssh…it's alright."

For as weak as he felt, Anders couldn't hide the venom in his tone when he replied to her supportive words. "It's not alright, Hawke." He coughed. "I almost killed you."

"Vengeance almost killed me, not you," she answered, smoothing his hair back. "Don't be so…self deprecating."

He would've laughed if he had any energy but all that came was a half-hearted smirk. "I try not to be, with the whole abomination-cursed-existence thing…"

She winced at the reference to the spirit who had, only moments ago, threatened to kill her. "It's…not relevant. Please Anders, you need to rest."

Scowling, he closed his eyes, his betrayal and the self-hate welling up inside him so strongly that he had to urge it back down. "No, Hawke. It is completely relevant. I've done so many…horrible things and only now, a year later, have I offered to apologize for them. I deserved death back there, back in Kirkwall." Hawke opened her mouth to protest but he didn't give her the chance. "You should've killed me. My existence is not without threat, it is not without consequence. It is not without…a purpose I can no longer control."

Tears were hounding her burning, tired eyelids, tears that had been waiting to fall for a whole year but that she kept back with avenging denial. She knew he was losing this battle; she saw it every day they were together. He was more moody, cranky, distracted, and somber—the list could go on forever. But she'd chosen to ignore it, believing that one day they'd find a way to separate Justice from within him. '_But who am I fooling now?_' The stubbornness in her, however, refused to resign itself to such finality. '_No,_' she thought. '_There has to be a way. There's always a way. Maybe in Tevinter…_' Pushing that thought to dwell on later, she brought her attention back to the man in her arms. She wanted to argue with him and defy the truth of his words but there, alone, she knew she couldn't any longer. Nodding, she gave her silent agreement to their ongoing battle. Relief spread across his features as he fell into unconsciousness. Hawke sat there, Anders in her arms, heavy like the guilt in her heart, and she pondered. She no longer wanted to have the constant philosophical arguments that seemed to occupy her mind day in and day out. '_No,_' she decided. '_Somewhere, at some point on this journey, I am going to Tevinter with Anders. I'm going to find a way to separate them._' She knew that this part of their journey would have to be embarked on alone; she would not risk taking her friends there, especially not Fenris. She had not resigned herself to giving up on Anders, but she had resigned herself to never falling in love again.

Humiliated by what she considered a grave weakness and character flaw, Hawke gently laid Anders down on the ground, pulling a blanket over him incase the weather changed again. Resignation was never something she'd been fond of in her whole life. It usually translated, for her, into cowardice, giving into something one couldn't overcome. Her father, apostate and stain on the Amell name, would have scolded her for this. She missed him, dearly. She missed all of them. Sometimes she wished she hadn't been born a mage, hadn't been born at all. If this was the world she was going to continue living in then she would've rather been someone else, someone not cursed with magic. She would've, above all things, chosen to fall in love with someone else—not another mage. The stain on her lineage would only worsen now—magic aside—from her own actions and choices that she now had to carry for the rest of her life. The fantasy of living happily with Anders would never become a reality; it would become the fantasy she'd fabricated. Their lives were as fugitives now and until they died. They would never stop hunting them, the Templars and the mages. The Chantry would avenge Elthina's death one way or another. And when it was all said and done what would she do? As it was, finding the Hero of Ferelden wasn't exactly what she had in mind, especially not when she had never even met the woman. She'd heard, briefly, of her when meeting King Alistair but there was very little information presented to her. He hadn't even seemed to know she was missing; perhaps because she wasn't his queen. But Anders could help with that, and Maker forgive her when she would force him into servitude to repay for his sins.

With him sleeping a couple feet away, Hawke began to observe herself. Self-observation had always been a low point in her mind; it stank of self-hate more than self-confidence. She took in her arms, covered by the Mages' robes, and she cringed, for she knew what lay beneath the fine silks that Sandal had enchanted for her shortly before their battle with the Knight Commander. Scars littered the expanse of her arms, some fading and some fresh, reminders of her many accomplishments. Reminders of her many failures. There were times when she'd returned to Kirkwall after many a mission, covered in blood, debris and a stench to rival the underground sewers. Each time she'd been thoroughly scolded by Aveline and Fenris, tricked into shame by Isabella and Varric, and healed by Anders. Each time it seemed to only get worse, too. The Coterie and Carta thugs had been stepping up in their attacks, aiming to kill as opposed to injuring. And each time she would rush in, forgetting she was a mage, as Aveline had put it. Both warriors would throw her angry but worried glances when approaching new enemies. It had felt like she was a troubled child who didn't listen to her parents each time they ventured into dangerous territory. She winced when she recalled the time Fenris and Aveline decided to impose their form of discipline. It had resulted in them not speaking for quite a few days. During that time, however, she had caught up on things with Merrill and Isabella.

* * *

_Hawke sat in her comfortable desk chair trying to, unsuccessfully, tune out the harsh and disappointed tone of both Aveline and Fenris' voices. Bother were yelling at her like she was a petulant child, one who had arrived home past her curfew and violated the rules of their home. Her arms were crossed angrily over her chest, eyes blazing as she stared at the ground—in shame, though she denied this. It was supposed to be a simple trek in the sands of the wounded coast, something similar to a patrol that would, eventually, bring them upon the Winters' territory. She had already returned Seamus to his father long before but had heard rumors of the revenge driven Winters seeking reprieve in the form of Qunari. Seeing further Qunari murders as a detriment to their plan of expelling the Arishok and his clan from Kirkwall, Hawke had taken it upon herself to quell this. She'd, more or less, dragged Aveline, Fenris and Merrill with her to the Wounded Coast in search of them. Qunari were not unreasonable, she knew, and she figured that killing the Winters', or at least stopping them with force, would please the Arishok and the Viscount. It was worth a shot, she'd told them in an attempt to convince them to come along. Aveline had agreed reluctantly; Fenris had thrown her a dirty look but nodded; Merrill had clapped and jumped at the opportunity. Once they were all in agreement she'd lead them their, in front as always._

_This had been her first mistake._

_When they'd approached the area rumored as the meeting place, she saw no one. Drawing her staff she cast her auras for safety and continued walking towards the shore in search of any clues. It was only seconds later that they were ambushed. Without thinking, she tore through the first wave of Winters, tearing down a good few with her staff as it erupted in a flurry of flames and fireballs rained down upon them. When another wave emerged she raised her hands to the sky, calling upon the forces of electricity, her most powerful Primal spell. Tempest rained down on them, electrocuting many of them and sending others into shock, which she used to tear through more of them, stabbing them with the sharp end of her staff. She felt a devilish smirk of satisfaction twisting onto her lips as Merrill sailed past her, entropic clouds and death hexes sprouting forth from the elf's staff to envelop many of the remaining men attacking. However, this victory was short lived when Aveline's shout of warning didn't go unnoticed but came all too late. Thrown back violently by a miasmic blast, she barely had time to think when she felt hot fire on her arm. An assassin had managed to dig his blade deep into her unarmed appendage, rendering it useless as he passed. Not giving her the time to cast an opposing spell, the assassin quickly swept her footing from underneath her as he brought his dagger straight down into her shoulder. But he wasn't done with her, she discovered with horror, as he slammed his fists into her ribcage, fracturing a couple of her ribs and knocking her breath from her lungs with the other fist. _

_The pain didn't register until Merrill's arcane spells shot past her, successfully blasting the man into nothing as he was encased in a crushing prison. Hawke didn't have time to cry out as the pain finally sank in when she saw Fenris and Aveline run past her, weapons destroying everyone and everything in their path. She could hear the fight raging but there was a good amount of blood pouring from her injured arm that she had to grit her teeth to heal her friends as wave after wave of the Winters' appeared from the mountains and brush around them. Thought adrenaline fueled her need to stay awake and keep fighting, she knew it was a matter of time before the effects wore off. It seemed completely unending; her spells consumed so much mana that she was sure she was going to die of blood loss and exhaustion if the ambush didn't die down soon. For what felt like an eternity Hawke continued healing, her energy almost all depleted from trying to stave off the blood loss. Minutes passed and turned into what felt like hours as she struggled to keep her eyes open, but perspiration beaded her forehead and she felt light-headed. She knew if she had lyrium then she might be able to cast a quick healing spell on herself; she wished she'd brought Anders. He was the healer. She was a mage not meant for such intricacies. She was only barely learning more about Spirit healing and was nowhere near as excelled in it as Anders. Cursing, she bit her tongue as a particular strong wave of nausea and dizziness slammed into her, threatening to knock her from her feet. Finally, after what felt like an infinite horde they were all dead, and Fenris had rushed to her aide, catching her just as she fell to the sand. Merrill became the slightest but hysterical but Aveline quickly calmed her._

"_We need to get back to Kirkwall," Aveline had said._

_Fenris nodded before glaring at her. "Hawke, you are strong but you cannot barge into battle!"_

_Hawke let out a excruciating chuckle as the blood loss began to rob of her of consciousness, and, thankfully, the sheer amount of pain she had felt moments earlier. "Oh, Fenris, it was just a little fun."_

"_That's not a little fun, Hawke!" Merrill cried as she pointed to the seeping wound running a jagged, vermillion colored path down her arm. "We need to heal her!"_

"_Do you know any healing spells, Merrill?"_

_The blood mage blushed scarlet and shook her head. "No I…I didn't excel in those kinds of spells."_

"_And why would she?" Fenris practically spat his sentence out. "She's a blood mage, an evil mage!" Merrill said nothing as he brushed past her. He would've surely knocked her down with his shoulder but strayed away, disgusted by her very existence. Hawke made a face to protest but he cut her off, tone biting and bitter. "She should've been taken by the very demons that she calls friends."_

_Merrill said nothing, though she seemed unfazed by his words. Aveline sighed and shook her head. "Fenris…another time, perhaps. We need to get Hawke back to the clinic so Anders can heal her or she will die."_

"_I don't die easily, Aveline," Hawke laughed, the delirium from her blood loss beginning to kick in fully. She wheezed as her fractured ribcage restricted deep breaths. They'd walked mere steps when she fell unconscious in the Elf's arms._

_Now, here she was, in her estate, being punished as though she'd done something wrong, which she truly believed she didn't. If she didn't know any better she'd say it was their way of showing they were beyond worried. But the malicious nature of Fenris' voice left no room for her to imagine such things right now. She just wanted them to leave her alone, to go away so her body could mend itself in peace and solitude. As it was, when she'd come to in Anders' clinic he had the most disapproving look on his face, one that made her feel like a little girl all over again. It reminded her of the times when her father reprimanded her for using her magic foolishly, and forgetting her place in a fight. Yes, she had a place. Mages were dangerous with all the magic they possessed; but their defenses were heavily lacking. Carver's being a soldier should've demonstrated as much since she and Bethany used to assist him from the sidelines, healing, spell casting and staying out of direct battle. Breathing in through her nose, she did her best to keep her own fiery temper in check as Fenris got too close. But she couldn't hold back anymore. Suddenly she'd lashed out, standing up so quick it made her head spin. She refused to be felled by her injuries._

"_Alright already! I get it. I acted like an idiot today. Are you two done treating me like a child?"_

"_Hawke…we almost lost you today," Aveline replied, her eyes caring but frown hard. "We know you can take care of yourself but—"_

"_You'd never know it the way she barged in there like the foolish mage that she is!" Fenris accusation was hostile and direct, though most likely not meant specifically for her—well, not the mage part._

_But it was all the ammunition Hawke needed as she tore into him like a rabid animal, jumping up and catching him by surprise as they tumbled to the ground, knocking her chair over in the process. She managed to land one punch before she was torn back by Aveline and Isabella. Fenris was quickly on his feet, snarling at her and wiping his chin where she'd planted her knuckles, the lyrium on his skin glowing faintly. For his part, he no longer seemed so angry but Hawke was spitting like a feral cat, trying to reach him and claw his eyes out. Both women holding her shook their heads, knowing it was only a matter of time before she depleted her small energy reserves or worse yet, reopened her wounds. _

"_Enough, Hawke! You're going to reopen those wounds!" Isabella chastised her as Hawke continued to struggle against them. Aveline glanced at the pirate for assistance. "Well…I suppose I can knock her out. Will that work, Captain?"_

"_No, Isabella," the red-head snapped. "We need to talk some sense into her."_

"_No point in doing that!" Fenris shouted before grabbing his weapon and marching out of the estate, the slamming of the door signaling his departure. _

_Once he'd gone Isabella released their friend, pushing her slightly forward until she tripped and fell to the floor. Hawke sucked in a large breath, panting and fighting to keep her eyes open. All her effort to get away left her drained and exhausted but she couldn't hold back when Fenris had attacked her. She couldn't help it if she was a mage. 'Yes, but you didn't have to try and be heroic.' She felt the annoyance slide into her veins like a rancorous menace trying to intimidate her to cave to its power. Adamant refusal seemed the best option but it had caused her to push Fenris to his limit, casting him into confusion and anger. It had pushed Aveline to scolding her where Leandra would have too; Hawke's heart clenched at the thought. At least Isabella found it funnier than anything else, her chuckling evident in the background. So Hawke remained on the floor, silent and resolute._

"_I have to return to the Keep. Isabella, will you keep an eye on Hawke for me?" The pirate nodded. Hawke was about to protest what she considered an offensive request for baby sitting when Aveline threw her a distasteful look. "And no, Hawke, I'm not letting this one go. Goodnight."_

_When the door shut behind the warrior, Isabella sidled up next to Hawke, dark skin coming into view brilliantly in the lit up room. "I don't need a baby sitter," Hawke said._

"_Looks like you do, sweet thing," Isabella replied, the purr in her voice not missed. "Come on then, lovely, let's get you into bed."_

_Snorting, Hawke managed to stand, with Isabella's help, and make her way to the master bedroom though not without fussing. Isabella would have none it though as she helped Hawke into bed before climbing into it with her, all smiles. Hawke blushed. "Isabella…"_

"_Oh, come off it Hawke. I'm not going to harass you, especially not when you're in such terrible condition!" the darker skinned woman tried to appear affronted by the suggestion but merely came off utterly amused. Letting out a disappointed sigh she shrugged. "What? Can't blame a girl for trying, can you?" Hawke glared. "Alright, alright. I promise I won't touch you that way. But come on, how am I supposed to watch over you AND sleep?" Another glare, to which Isabella simply laughed and reached for the blankets. "Hawke, seriously…I promise I won't touch you. I'm here to make sure you get your rest. Now, sleep, love."_

"_This is so ridiculous…like I'm some child…" her mumbling died down after a few minutes._

_When Isabella realized that their champion had fallen asleep, she gently began to play with the stray strands of Hawke's hair, marveling at how her friend was so strong yet so fragile. Her reverie was interrupted shortly thereafter when Hawke began whimpering, her forehead creased in agony. Tears began to slide down her cheeks from the corners of her eyelids, drawing the rogue's attention. 'A nightmare,' Isabella surmised. With a sigh, she scooped the other woman up in her arms, laying Hawke's head on her bosom as a mother would to her daughter. When it seemed to be getting worse, the exotic beauty began running her fingers through the woman's hair, humming a tune of the sea to comfort her. She'd never tell it but she had wanted to offer more comfort to her friend, one that didn't involve sexual puns or innuendos. But even Isabella knew how much knowledge she lacked in that particular area. When it had first came crashing down upon Hawke, it had been Anders to comfort her, to seek her out and offer her solace. But they had all done so, or tried to, in their own ways. Personally, Isabella had felt hers fell short of what could be considered genuine caring. She knew, since Hawke was a lot like her in many ways, that the woman didn't think she needed anyone. _

_It was so like Hawke to think she could do everything herself—she had been up until all her family had died. It was unlike Hawke to ask for help or seek comfort in anyone; unlike her to share her problems, worries, concerns. No, Hawke was a protector, a warrior, a battle ready, clever woman. She'd simply been born in the wrong class. 'Mages…' Isabella laughed at this. They'd all seen what she could do on countless occasions. In fact, Isabella was sad she'd missed today's battle as Merrill had squealed that, despite Hawke's injuries, she was glorious and daring. Shaking her head, a smile on her face, Isabella glanced down at Hawke, who was still trembling. 'They will not take my friend.' She was determined after everything they'd been through, to stick with this woman who had risked her life to save a conniving, selfish pirate. She would watch over her like a mother, like a sister. For the first time, in a long time, Isabella held Hawke in her arms, letting the woman's silent, subconscious tears fall, hoping in the morning that the hidden thoughts of Leandra might have dissipated, if only for a little while. _

* * *

Isabella was too busy staring at Fenris' behind to care about the fact that Merrill had been asking her the same question for the last ten minutes. The Blood mage seemed to realize that the pirate was no longer paying attention and turned her attention to Carver, the Champion's brother. Glad that Merrill had finally caught her drift, Isabella turned her lips up in a satisfied smirk, biting back the urge to grab Fenris' derriere and give it a good, strong squeeze. '_The man really has no idea how delicious he looks,_' she mused as he walked silently in front of her. Aveline was leading the way with Guardsman Donnic ahead of them. Behind her were Merrill, Carver and Varric. And in front of her in all his lyrium crafted glory was Fenris, oblivious to her observance. He was aware of everything else but how tantalizing he appeared. She knew that, years ago, he had fancied Hawke. Now, however, she wasn't so sure. Ever since Hawke had chosen Anders and the Mages, he had seemed put-out and disappointed. Isabella saw this as the perfect opportunity to swoop in and calm his raging "heart." Slyly, the last 6 months or so, she been working on breaking down his walls, intent on showing him that having fun and not commitment was far better than any relationship with Hawke. Not to discredit her friend, of course—she thought Hawke was scrumptious as well—for she was sure any relationship with Hawke would be most interesting and thrilling. But Isabella's focus had shifted in the last couple years. Hawke was her friend and Fenris was…well, he was her new conquest. His tortured aura only added to the challenge she found, and Isabella loved challenges, especially the tasty kind.

She would be lying if she didn't admit that Hawke being a mage didn't somewhat sway him in her favor; but Fenris had given up hating that part of her some time ago. Now, she believed, it was more of a strong dislike centered on her being a mage and choosing to let Anders live. '_Oh, and him blowing up that building._' Nonetheless, no matter what anyone else said, murdering aside, Isabella still thought it had been a bold plan. She had voiced such thoughts the evening it happened but she was sure no one else approved, though Hawke gave no indication that she agreed or disagreed. It was neither here nor there with Isabella in regards to many things. She was a smuggler, a pirate, a rogue; being a champion of justice wasn't really her strong suit. Not that she would've preferred it so, anyway. But her train of thought crashed when Fenris paused in front of her and she almost ran straight into him. Steeling herself back she waited for him to speak but it seemed he and Aveline were looking or waiting for something. '_Or someone_,' she thought.

"Are we waiting for something, or someone, Aveline?"

"Hawke was supposed to meet us here shortly."

Isabella shifted her weight from one hip to the next. "And she is late, I'm guessing?"

"Not yet, but we should keep our guard up, pirate," Fenris answered.

Said woman shivered in delight at the nickname, though it wasn't really a nickname at all. Nodding, she stood aloof next to Varric and Merrill while Carver drifted further up towards the other warriors. As a soldier it was only natural that he fell into place next to them, strange as the 3 of them looked standing next to each other in the white blanketed terrain. Her usually bare legs were covered with warm wool armor, which didn't exactly restrict her movement but definitely made her less comfortable. '_Itchy, would be the right word Isabella,_' she mentally told herself. The top part of her garment, too, had been covered, her bosom no longer a viewable sight, whether by purpose of accident. It was covered neatly with some form of leather cuirass that Hawke had once found but never used; it was too heavy, she'd said. Whatever the case it found its way onto Isabella and was currently protecting her, firstly, from frostbite and a many other things when the engaged in battle. The exotic skinned beauty would more than likely fail to mention, too, that she found it strangely alluring when her "wares" weren't exposed for all to see. It made it that much more interesting, she figured. Besides, it's not like her well-endowed chest stopped many a man or woman from calling her an old pirate hag, or something similar. Wench was one of her personal favorites, though, if she was honest about it. Whore was not, though it had a certain ring to it that made her laugh obnoxiously when a select few people said it—namely Aveline and herself. Shaking the thought away she was all smiles when she saw Hawke and Anders coming into view, though the latter looked worse for the wear. Anders looked like he hadn't bathed or taken care of himself in days; Hawke looked miserable.

"You're late, Hawke," Fenris greeted sternly.

"Yes well…blizzards tend to do that, what with all the snow everywhere. Don't you agree?" Hawke's answer was mildly snappy if not mostly light-hearted. Everyone could tell she was glad to see all of them. She was quite taken aback when her gaze landed on Carver. Her brother seemed to sense this as he awkwardly walked over to her. "Carver? What're you…? I thought that you would've stayed behind with the Templars."

Begrudgingly he shook his head. "Yes well, apostate and rebel you may be…you're still my sister."

If Hawke was relieved to see him she certainly did not show it. "Yes…well…we should be going, then. Aveline, any orders we should be following?"

"We need to get back to the coast. Isabella's ship is our best bet in returning to Ferelden. We can't very right walk across the sea now, can we Hawke?"

"Smart ass…" the mage trailed as she nodded. "Isabella, is your ship still at the Kirkwall docks? Isn't that…dangerous?"

"Nope, can't say that it is, sweet thing," Isabella said, voice lurid. "I docked it off the wounded coast further outland. We start our trek towards there, and then sail across the seas to Ferelden. There are so many refugee ships still sailing out of Kirkwall I doubt we'll be noticed."

Nodding, Hawke turned towards Merrill. "It is good to see you doing so well, Merrill. I trust that you are feeling less…nervous now that you're out of Kirkwall?"

Merrill's enthusiastic reply was so abound with merriment that if Hawke didn't know any better, she'd have to reevaluate whether they were actually in hiding in Kirkwall. "Oh yes, Hawke. Everything is wonderful. Ever since you left I've been asking your brother, Carver, about human customs. Most are strangely fascinating. I hope it hasn't been a bother."

"Not at all, Merrill," he replied. Hawke observed him suspiciously, unsure as to whether or not his comfort around Merrill resulted from long time spent in her presence, or his distaste for his sister.

'_Surely it couldn't be the mage thing...Merrill is a Blood Mage, after all._' Hawke didn't have time to dwell on this thought when Donnic cleared his throat. "Hello Guardsman Donnic."

He waved politely. "Sorry to interrupt but I believe it is wise if we start for the Coast. I won't say that we had Templars following us; but it'd be foolish to think we avoided them altogether."

"Perhaps you are right," Hawke responded in kind, shouldering her pack. "Well, lead the way Guard Captain."

Aveline blushed. "I fear that title is useless now."

"Was it ever useful?" Hawke questioned with a smirk. Aveline shot her a dirty look but Hawke just chuckled. "Come on Aveline; I know we're on a journey facing certain death and so much more, but you have to admit…it's always an adventure. Besides…my Champion title no longer has a shred of merit and yet you still insist on it being important."

Sighing, Aveline consented. "I know, Hawke, I know."

"You need a drink, old girl!" Isabella sang as she sidled, inconspicuously, up to Fenris' side. He raised a brow but said nothing, preferring to stay as far away from the Abomination as possible. "Varric, you did pack whiskey and ale, didn't you? I don't think I had a good enough chance to see Aveline here drunk!"

"I swear, whore, you are pushing my limits," Aveline snapped, though the effect was lost by the smile that accompanied it.

Isabella shrugged before addressing Donnic. "By the way, did you ever manage to bend her over a basin?"

"Isabella!" Aveline's growl was loud and pronounced.

Behind them, Varric laughed, Donnic blushed, Merrill questioned and Hawke couldn't stop her uncontrollable fits of chortling.

* * *

_And so begins their journey to Ferelden in search of the lost Hero! Woo, we'll see where it goes. Anders will get happy but this is just…hopefully not TOO sappy. I am leaning towards a Fenris/Isabella romance, only because I like crack pairings. Oh, and a slight Merrill/Carver one cause I really don't know what to do with those two. Eh…we'll see. Constructive Criticism is welcome. I can't really control what kind of reviews come in though so…yeah. As a sidenote, i just LOVE LOVE LOVE Isabella. ^.^ WOO! Well, enjoy till next time._

_~Sadistickunais_


	4. Chapter 4

Note to Disclaimers: I do not and never will own Dragon Age: Origins, Awakening, or Dragon Age 2, etc. All characters are the property of BioWare, etc, and this is NOT for profit.

A/N: Chapter 3! The pairing remains FemHawke(mage)/Anders but there will be references to a past slight romance with Fenris. He'll have someone, probably not a pairing anyone will like but eh. You like it, you read. You don't well…yeah. Constructive Criticism is welcome. Thanks.

'_Thought' & Flashbacks_

"**Justice"**

"Speaking"

Everything else

* * *

**Praevāricātor (Chapter 4)**

It had been a relatively long day trudging through snow, cold and bitter winds, and a lot of banter that left many of the party peeved. Hawke would say these were definitely not her ideal beginnings to an expedition to Ferelden. However, seeing as to barely any of it was really planned she figured she couldn't be too upset given the fact that they were all a bunch of fugitives. Sighing, Hawke continued on, her blistered feet hurting in her fadestriders, her robe not providing enough protection against the wind, and her cowl littered with snow. Even her gloves did little to help here where it came to the weather. Enchanted robes, she'd found, provided little help against the elements. It annoyed her that they'd been imbued with so many wonderful protection spells, battle wards and auras only to fail her when it came to nature. Unlike Merrill, she couldn't call upon nature as the Dalish did when they needed it. Though, even with all her connection to nature, Hawke was sure nothing Merrill summoned could change such things—unless she used Blood Magic. Steering her thoughts away from that, the Champion trekked on behind Aveline and Donnic, the silence companionable beside Fenris. Isabella was to her left while the elven warrior walked quietly to her right, his posture alert and mien unreadable. Isabella, on the other hand, was talking animatedly, her lurid voice drawing Hawke in despite the champion's effort to think.

"Hawke, thinking is boring! Don't waste this entire trip doing that."

"Surely you do enough of the not thinking for all of us," Hawke muttered back though the irritation she felt fell short. "Besides…how will I protect us if I am not constantly thinking, constantly preparing?"

Fenris snorted. "Hawke, I believe we are more than prepared for any attacks from Templars, Tevinter Magisters or any rogue Mages that need to be smote."

The disgust in his tone when he said mage did not go unnoticed and Hawke crossed her arms and shook her head. She could not hold these feelings against her friend; he had a terrible history with mages, granted they were from Tevinter. She had tried to make him see that all mages were not so but Anders had confirmed his every purpose for hating them. That he still trusted her meant there was room for hope that he might, eventually, change his mind. _'Or that he trusts only me, foolish as I've been._' She would never argue with him that mages weren't dangerous; she knew how dangerous she was to those around her. Anders confirming this to him had been another blow, martyrdom not withstanding. While she truly understood, on some level, the mages' plight, she also could try to understand Fenris' point of view. It would be unfair to force him to accept Anders' point of view, and vise versa. Thoughts like this only exacerbated everything already pushing her to her limits, which didn't bode well when she was trying to lead them on a particularly risky and life threatening mission. At times like this Hawke felt it would be better to be hanging somewhere from a rafter in the gallows, especially in the cold little cell that would have been assigned to her. '_Apostate,_' she thought bitterly. Being an apostate was the least of her worries now. Being a mage in and of itself was her main concern; that her companion was the apostate who had blown up the Chantry was the cherry on top of her already fantastically destroyed life. On any other occasion she would've laughed in bitter irony but she could not even muster this.

"Hawke, you're brooding." She blinked at the white haired man next to her, his green eyes boring into hers. "You have a lot on your mind. Perhaps you should voice it."

"And what would that accomplish, Fenris?" Hawke responded in a biting tone. "There is nothing I say that you, or the others, would wish to hear. Even if it is for the sake of venting. I will be fine, Fenris. Thank you."

"You're not a really good liar, Hawke," Fenris pointed out. "The Captain has told us all as much. Given that I accompanied you on the journey to help her court this man…it would do you well to remember that we have been friends for years. I…know you, Hawke."

She flinched at this, remembering the night she'd started that particular venture, not caring whether it was disastrous. Looking away, she felt the memories come flooding back like a broken dam as she stared off into the distance.

* * *

_It had been a particularly long day for them all and Hawke wanted nothing more than to return back to her estate for a proper bath and meal. Leandra would surely have ordered the servants to make a dinner suitable for the Amell nobility and Hawke found her mouth watering as she made her way from Darktown through the Old City Slums of Lowtown. She had also, coincidentally, agreed to drop a package off to her uncle, at her mother's request. Previous to this task she had accompanied Aveline, Varric and Isabella on a quest to discover Herbalist specialties in order to provide Lady Elegant and a few other merchants with the proper ingredients to create poisons and healing potions. This was all precautionary should her energy deplete as it had in other instance where she was injured, or failed to bring Anders for healing. They were walking up and down Sundermount, which had been relatively quiet for weeks before, when they'd been ambushed by Slavers and Coterie thugs. She could've sworn she'd murdered every last one of the yellow-livered bastards searching for Fenris but upon interrogation they were, clearly, not looking for him. As for the Coterie thugs, they were mostly upset that Athrenial had stolen some of their goods, as was usually the case when smuggling goods in and out of Kirkwall. It had been a relatively easy job to clear them out and depart the area with their reagents. However, it was not without injury._

_Hawke had come away mostly unscathed but had, nevertheless, suffered a twisted ankle and broken wrist. Aveline was bloodied everywhere but she had managed to come away with mostly shallow cuts and bruises. Isabella had come away without any battle scars, sporting blood splatters on her white bodice but otherwise fine. Varric was limping from a cut on his leg but it was shallow enough to be stopped with a healing touch, which Hawke quickly had provided. As for herself, she was able to sooth the burning in her ankle, and had managed to bring the swelling down. As for her wrist, she wasn't quite skilled in mending bones, which meant she'd need to go to Anders clinic. She dreaded this but her companions looked ready to beat her into submission if necessary. She knew she should've stayed further back and healed, should've practiced her spells. Instead she'd inched closer, almost taking down a slaver but he had whirled on her so quick that she was barely able to shoot winter's grasp and freeze him. After dealing with him she was sure that everything was taken care of but she had suffered an injury at the cost of blocking his shield. Her wrist was throbbing despite the minor healing spell she'd cast on it to stop the pain. It was dull now, very dull and she thought that perhaps her friends would reconsider sending her to Anders._

_Of course this was a ridiculous notion as Aveline would never allow it. And so following the attack she wound up in Anders clinic with him scolding her, too, while healing her wrist. He had sent her home with some salve to soothe the burning and ease the swelling in both her wrist and ankle. He had also, to her disappointment, politely declined her invitation to dinner. While she had shrugged it off, the trek home proved semi-treacherous when she thought about the constant denial between them, only further amplified from the sensations he sent through her body with a single touch. Sighing, Hawke quickly dropped the package off to Gamelin with very little conversation, and was already at the stairs that led to Hightown when she realized that she should've visited Fenris to warn him of possible slavers still lurking about. 'I'll do it tomorrow, then. Maker knows I have a ton of paperwork and letters to answer.' She stepped inside the warm estate, delighted by the delicious aromas that wafted out of the entrance leading from the foyer to the main living room. She had barely turned from hanging up her cowl when she heard the clanking of armor._

"_Hawke."_

"_Fenris? It's good to see you. I was about to visit your mansion tomorrow morning and inform you of possible slavers." When he said nothing, only stared at her, Hawke raised a brow. "Fenris? Is everything alright?"_

_Suddenly he was upon her, invading all personal space as she back pedaled a few steps. "I have been thinking of you. In fact, I have been able to think of little else. Tell me to go, Hawke, and I will leave your estate at once."_

_Taken aback by his words, Hawke stuttered. "I…Fenris I don't understand."_

"_I will go, then." _

"_No, Fenris, please…don't leave." She couldn't believe what she was thinking, what she was saying. 'What am I thinking?' Fenris turned to face her, half of his face shrouded in the shadows as the candlelight flickered. She didn't hear Leandra walking about, which meant that everyone else in the estate had retired for the evening. How long had Fenris been waiting? Shaking her head, she repeated herself. "Fenris…please...stay."_

"_Why do you ask this of me, Hawke?"_

_Blanching for a moment, Hawke lowered her head in defeat. 'I…I don't want to be alone. The man I have fallen in love with does not desire me. If I should…if I should move on, then Fenris…' she never finished the thought when she realized Fenris had started to walk away. 'It's now or never,' she thought, heart breaking even as she reached out to Fenris. "No! Stay!"_

_Her eyes widened when, shortly after her palm landed on his shoulder, Fenris spun around, slamming her into the wall, lips on her own so fiercely that Hawke couldn't help but push back. Tears threatened to fall as his hands drifted lower, circling her waist with a bittersweet force that made the guilt and hurt sweep through her. It was this that convinced her that she needed to move on and forget Anders. He would never let her in; there was no point in dwelling. Such a concept hadn't gotten her to where she was now. At that moment Hawke gave herself to Fenris in ways that she had only dreamt of giving herself to the mage, the abomination that everyone seemed to despise. She did not refuse the demand of his tongue, the urgency of his body upon hers. She did not refuse when he picked her up and carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. She did not protest when he ripped the clothes from her body, crawling atop her shivering form. And when his fingers slid down the length of her body that night, Hawke imagined that they were calloused hands filled with the tempered, carefully controlled spark of magic. She imagined that the lips on her skin were soft and gentle, filled with tender love and want instead of rabid lust and hurried needs. That night Hawke dreamed of the mage and his abandonment of her heart. _

* * *

Shuddering more from the memories than the snow around them, Hawke frowned. Fenris had, once again, fallen silent next to her while Isabella chattered on about the whore house in Kirkwall, stating that there had been so much fun there and how she would miss it. Hawke knew she herself would not miss the place, especially when it dredged up memories of Isabella, Anders and the "Lay Warden." Such a recollection could only be suited for inappropriate banter, which, at the present, Hawke found more annoying than anything else. She was thoroughly bemused by the fact that the pirate had been staring at Fenris' derriere for the latter half of their stroll to the wounded coast. It was slightly more fascinating watching the faces she made when she thought no one was onto her game. It offered a fair amount of personal amusement for the Champion, giving her something else to focus on aside from their current predicament. They had been traveling for a little over a day and they were still quite some ways away from the Coast where Isabella's ship was docked. The trip south from the Free Marches would prove difficult, of that Hawke had no doubts. When she'd fled Lothering prior to the eruption of power between the Circle and Chantry, she had been fleeing north, away from the Blight, away from her homeland. While she had never fully considered Kirkwall her home, it was unsettling to return to Ferelden. Upon meeting King Alistair she was more than surprised to discover that his fellow Grey Warden had placed him there, though he'd been unwilling to take the crown. She'd only heard that their queen, Anora, had been opposed to this as she had loved Calain; but it seemed a good political move at the time. She had also, been equally impressed that the King did not agree with Meredith about Circle Mages, or mages at all for that matter.

She attributed this to the stories and legends of his traveling companions: the Hero of Ferelden, a mage from the circle; the apostate daughter of legend, Morrigan; Sten, the imprisoned Qunari; Zevran, the Antivan assassin she'd met in Kirkwall, who'd known Isabella; the Dwarf Anders spoke of, Oghren; and the Healing mage, Wynne. She'd heard all the stories, whether from rumors around Ferelden or straight from Anders himself. Whatever the case, she'd been extremely impressed by King Alistair's opposition to making mages tranquil for the smallest offense. She figured if he was running the Circle, then she may have not minded joining it. '_Would I have met Anders, there, then?_' She knew he was originally from the Circle in Ferelden under First Enchanter Irving, who had also trained the Hero of Ferelden. Clearly their reunion in Amaranthine had provided knowledge that they'd practiced and learned together. She knew that Anders had been taken to the Circle as a young boy, ripped from his family once his powers manifested at home. For this, Hawke marveled at her family's ability to keep hers and Bethany's a secret for so long; she wondered how they did it. And she was thankful they had, otherwise she may have been as absolutely bitter as Anders was, and every other mage that had joined the Circle. She imagined sweet, tender Bethany would have found the Gallows a discomfort, too; her gentle sister would have, more than likely, decided to hang herself than be submitted to the Circle's power. Such thoughts did nothing for Hawke's inner peace, only causing a rush of turbulent emotions to surface from within the depths they'd slept for years.

"You're far too quiet, Hawke."

The mage sighed as she heard Varric's voice pierce the disastrous train of thought she'd been running across in the hours past. Shaking her head, Hawke brought her gaze to Varric's, hoping she looked less daunted. "Why, Varric…if I didn't know any better I'd say you were worried." He shot her a pointed look, which indicated that he didn't find her light hearted comment all that funny. Huffing, Hawke crossed her arms. "Alright, alright. I know I've been quiet. But come on, Varric. I swear Isabella's been chattering enough for the entire lot of us, don't you?"

It was true that the Rivaini woman had been talking their ears off—mostly Hawke's—about her numerous adventures at sea followed by tales of debauchery and lechery from Sailors to Townsmen to Townswomen and then some. While Hawke was no prude or stranger to the concept of sex, she found it mildly disconcerting how many people Isabella seemed to have conquered, as the beauty put it. This didn't seem to bother Varric that much as he soaked up the information, most likely to retell the Pirate's story with much more embellishment. Though how much more Hawke couldn't imagine as it seemed Isabella was doing a fine job of that herself. It was, in fact, a tad scary to Hawke how the Pirate and the Dwarven storyteller seemed a perfect pair in crime, especially when neither seemed that fond of each other back in Kirkwall. When had things changed? Of course, Hawke chalked this up to the fact that she had spent a lot of time in the company of Anders and had, obviously, fallen behind when it came to her friends. The possessed mage seemed to do more silent brooding than anything else, and Hawke was sure that this did not help her social skills. Groaning, the Champion brought her hand to her forehead as Isabella mentioned something particularly lewd, which made Varric laugh, Aveline sputter on her water canteen and Merrill's ears perk.

"Isabella…what is a…what do you mean by a position most advantageous?" The Dalish Mage didn't seem to understand the statement. "You mean most advantageous for a battle yes?"

"Of sorts, Kitten," the dark skinned woman replied, a mischievous smile on her face.

To the side Fenris smirked but looked away as Donnic shook his head; Aveline blushed a mild shade of red. Varric could only whistle his approval while Carver's expression remained placid. If Hawke had been interested in observing her mage companion, she would've seen that Anders' face had turned a spectacularly brilliant shade of red, too, though his jaw also seemed to tighten for some unknown reason. Instead, Hawke choked on her giggle as Isabella draped her arm across Merrill's shoulder, eyes sly and fingers trailing patterns on the elf's arm. The Elf didn't seem to understand, or notice rather, that everyone was laughing at this comment.

"Although…if it's a battle you want, forget positioning. Then, it's all about power and strength!"

"Enough, Isabella!" Hawke said, her lips upturned in a grin. "I think we should save talk of…battle…for another time, perhaps?" When the pirate nodded knowingly, everyone breathed a small sigh of relief. "Now, Merrill, I've been meaning to ask you…what exactly does your Wrath of the Elven ability allow you to do here?"

Merrill stuttered a response. "It-it allows me t-to call on nature."

"That will be a handy tool to have when we get into the Brecillian Forests of Ferelden. I think there are still Dalish there, if I'm not mistaken," Carver replied. Hawke eyed him suspiciously. He didn't seem to mind that Merrill was a blood mage, let a lone a mage. He glanced at the elf before swatting Isabella's arm off. "It's a good thing, too. Dalish are a proud race of Elves, aren't they? It makes it better if we have one with us to…mediate."

Immediately the younger elf colored. "Oh I…I don't know about that. Most Dalish don't like me, Carver."

"We like you, Merrill," Hawke supplied.

"Speak for yourself," two voices muttered in unison.

Hawke blinked in irritation when Fenris and Anders looked at each other, their eyes full of hate and loathing for one another. Fending off another argument, Hawke quickly jumped in to reply. "Anyway…Isabella, that's enough with the commentary. You're going to scar poor Merrill's mind."

"I can think of other things to…scar," Isabella quipped, her glance drifting quietly over Fenris. Hawke glared at her. "What? I'm sensing an awful lot of hostility there, Hawke. Please take it out on me, Champion!"

"You're terrible, Isabella," Hawke answered with a raised brow. When the pirate erupted into a fit of chuckles, Hawke shook her head before turning to Aveline. "Captain, how far are we now?"

"I'd say we're about a couple hours out, at this pace anyway. It shouldn't take us long to reach the ship and set sail to Ferelden. If we're going to Vigil's keep, Anders, I'll need you to stay at the mast with Isabella." The mage nodded but said nothing. "I imagine it should take us a while to get past the other refugee ships sailing back to Ferelden, granted that Orlais doesn't suddenly try to take over while we are traveling."

"And granted the Chantry isn't riding our asses," Isabella said with an aggravated sigh. "What have you gotten yourself into this time, Isabella? Templars, Mages, rebellion…Hawke, you're a tough act to follow."

"I was unaware that you were trying to outshine me," Hawke replied neutrally. "In any event, I think it's best if we stop to eat at some point, take a short rest before we sail. It might be wise."

"I would like to reach Highever sooner than later but since we do have quite the trip ahead of us, I have to agree. Crossing the Waking Sea will be no small feat in itself." Aveline nodded her consent to their Champion. Donnic did not protest either. When no one else seemed to disagree, they turned back towards the Coast, glad to see some abandoned camps of slavers and murdered merchants, no doubt. "It seems we are fortunate to find these abandoned camp sites. Kirkwall's chaos has surely made many people flee, even from the coastlands. I imagine the Merchant's guild is probably angrier than most everyone else."

"Is it even possible for the Merchant's Guild to be angrier than the leaders of the Chantry?" Carver's statement and tone of voice did not go unnoticed. It left a sour taste in his sister's mouth and a blanket of unease settled over the remainder of the group. Having once been in the Templar order under Meredith's rule, he had seen, first-hand, the twisted power she held and the corruption that followed. He had disagreed with it. But he did not forget all his Templar teachings as a result of the Mage Rebellion. He watched all mages closely, carefully. While he may not have scrutinized his sister as much, he did pay special attention to Merrill when they'd been in Kirkwall. He was positively disgusted and horrified by Anders. Nevertheless, Carver's annoyance and disappointment with his sister had remained unspoken for far too long and he knew it was a matter of time before it blew up. They needed to talk, and soon. In the mean time he would simply accept what was necessary and stay silent when possible. However, the comment about the Merchant's guild set something off, rubbed him the wrong way and set his temper flaring. "How would that be possible Guard Captain? This Abomination murdered innocents in the name of Justice, twisting and skewing that which would remain untainted. I highly doubt the Merchant's Guild has the same importance as innocent lives."

Silence set in heavy like a steel trap and Hawke felt the migraine coming on stronger. She wanted to rub her temples but more than that, she wanted to shoot a spell at Carver's face. While he had a point, her brother, she felt, was stupendously ill-timed in his arguments and retorts. She wished he would've voiced his disagreement and anger with more tact, or at least when they weren't all headed towards Ferelden. If she could have, Hawke was sure she would've pushed him off Isabella's boat to teach him a lesson. Since she was the oldest he had always seemed to live in her shadow, which he resented, and voiced many a time over. '_But now is NOT the time, Carver!_' Even before she looked to the side she knew Anders was bristling, Vengeance just aching for a reason to return and finish her—and her friends—off to protect his quest. Fenris has slipped, deftly, to the side where Carver was standing and had a hand on his weapon, itching to take down the mage. '_Great…just what we need…to divide everyone into bickering fools while Templars and Circle Mages alike are out to kill us already! No, don't worry, we'll kill each other for you!_' The sarcasm in her thoughts did nothing to ease her own aggravation as Varric, Aveline and Donnic inched back; Merrill, oblivious as usual, did not waver. Isabella came to stand behind her like a rock steadying the oncoming storm; Hawke knew she shouldn't have been surprised. However, she knew all hell was about to break loose when she felt more than saw the Renegade mage moving towards her and Carver. He radiated pure, electric energy, the power of the Fade coming off him in waves, the strong, undiluted magic rolling off him so thickly that it made Hawke shiver. She could feel every tendril licking at her being, thrumming in her mind and coursing through her veins with dark promises should she, too, decide to take such a route. '_This is bad…_'

"**Templar, you would condemn us when your own order has misused its power, shirked its responsibilities and abused that which would make it holy! You dare to accuse mages of murder when Templars have done the same towards many innocent people, their will and birth desecrated, made filthy by the words of man!"**

The blue cracks in Anders skin glowed brightly, the misty aura surrounding him looking all the more formidable as he advanced on her brother. Carver looked downright terrified—well, as much as he could in his Templar armor—and Hawke wondered if he had any real idea what he'd gotten himself into by taunting the dual mage. She had never minded, nor particularly cared, for Carver's blatant disrespect and distaste for Mages due to the fact that as one, she was used to it and could beat him senseless. There was also the major factor that he was family. But his temper had hit a sensitive nerve in Anders, whose ability to control Vengeance was deteriorating as the days went by. While the mage may not have liked what her brother said, he certainly wouldn't harm him. Unfortunately for Carver, the same could not be said about Vengeance who looked all the more ready to disintegrate the Ex-templar's existence if necessary. Hawke, as annoyed as she was by Carver's constant spouts of attitude, would not let anything happen to her brother. '_Even if he is a raging imbecile without any sense, damn the Maker._' She could see Vengeance almost upon her frightened little brother and knew it was time to put a stop to the situation, even if she was somewhat terrified of the spirit herself. Her previous run in with him the day before was still aptly fresh in her mind and body, the tingling sensations when she saw him driving chills up and down her spine.

"That's enough, spirit. You should not be here," she said, placing her body in front of Carver's to protect her sibling. Carver huffed but said nothing. _'Wise, for once, brother.'_ She threw Vengeance a threatening look when he paused a couple feet before her. "You should not be here. Leave."

"**You challenge me again, Mage. You are pushing me to limits of which I can no longer return. This man has spoken blasphemy about his order. He should be made to pay for his convictions, for they are unjust." **

"And what would you know about Justice? You are no longer such a reverent spirit. You are twisted and displaced." Hawke's hatred for the spirit fueled her reckless responses.

"**And you, Mage, have been corrupted by the very presence of the Templars. I will have my vengeance on them yet. You would spite your own kind to save those who would murder us in the name of Andraste and the Maker. You would choose those who have betrayed the principles of life and Justice. You would have us rot in the Gallows with countless innocents and children born of the Maker, cursed because man has dictated it to be so. You, Mage, would have apostates killed…when you are one yourself."**

With narrowed eyes, Hawke's mouth tightened as she listened to his words. She knew that a good amount of what he said was true and she hated that she could not outright and readily agree. It made her stomach churn just thinking about all the loopholes in Chantry teachings, Tevinter Teachings, Templar teachings, the Circle's teachings; it made Hawke want to destroy every single symbol and start over again. Yet this was not a possibility. They had more important things to do like finding the Hero of Ferelden. She knew that the Seeker, Cassandra, was out there with her own companions trying to fix things. Hawke would not be hindered by differences of opinion, not when they'd all come so far, not when she'd massacred everything she'd worked to rebuild. Gathering her remaining courage and patience, the Champion shot Vengeance a loathing look as she shook her head. "No, Spirit. All the things you've said may be, but it is not your place to judge any longer. You must take your leave now, or I shall force you to do so. Enough, spirit."

"**You try my patience, mage. You should thank the Maker that Anders remains. For now."**

And he was gone. Anders stumbled backwards as Vengeance disappeared into the recesses of his mind, willingly at that. The ease at which the spirit retreated left a chilling message in its wake; she knew it was biding its time, waiting to strike. Anders seemed disoriented as he tried to regain some strength from the encounter, and all the group had witnessed it. No one said a word but Hawke knew Fenris would take an opportunity to drive his blade into the man, deeply, or to use his fancy fist technique. Aveline and Donnic both looked very weary as Hawke turned to them. Isabella's hand on her arm was comforting and reassuring, at the very least, and Hawke had to thank the Rivaini for being so supportive. '_No stronger bond of friendship than rescuing a thief and such,_' she thought as Anders finally came to, his eyes blinking furiously as he took in his surroundings, the frown etched onto his face a sign of his awareness.

"Maker, no…" Anders words were spoken so softly that Hawke knew he was ready to flee. "I could have…I couldn't control Vengeance..." The Rebel mage rounded on her, his face so broken and distraught that the instinct in Hawke made her feel sympathy, made her want to run to him and protect him; her Champion ego denied this. She knew she could not coddle him, not after what he did and certainly not in front of her companions. He had chosen to host Justice. Forcing herself to stay put, Hawke prepared herself for anything. Anders seemed to sense that she would not keep her end of the bargain, and anger replaced the stress that had addled his mind moments ago. "You cannot go back on your word. You must do as we agreed, Hawke. This will…it will not change until I am dead." She refused to meet his eyes, and this time it was Anders who lashed out, minus his spirit friend. "You said you would. I would have you keep that promise, Hawke!"

"I say we slay him, right now, give him what he wants. The abomination does not deserve to live. He threatened you and should pay for everything he has done." Fenris roared. "With his life, Hawke."

"And who are you to judge me, Elf?" Anders let out a bitter laugh. "The last time I recall, you had murdered those who had helped you."

This time Fenris' eyes narrowed with hatred. He glanced, briefly, at Hawke, expression puzzled—he hadn't told anyone but her about the Seheron Fog Warriors. _'Surely she has never shared this information with the abomination? But how else could he know?'_ The betrayal that wisped across his face did not go unnoticed by Hawke but she returned his look, bewildered. Fenris felt somewhat eased. He knew she had not told anyone. "Disgusting creature…thinking you can judge me...I will have you dead!"

"Silence! That wasn't Anders, that was Vengeance. I will not kill him for what the Spirit does, Fenris. How is that any different from killing you for what Danarius had made you do? I will not condemn one of you unless I damn everyone here!" When Fenris fell silent and Anders had the decency to look ashamed, Hawke turned away, gaze directed back towards the coast. "Besides…he cannot face retribution if he is dead, my friend. Come on, we should setup camp before it falls dark, or before there's another blasted blizzard." When no one moved, all seemingly paralyzed by her words, Hawke threw her hands up in the air. "Andraste's underpants, will you all stop standing there like I just told you there was another Blight? We need to make camp. Let's get to it before Darkspawn appear from the bloodied sands."

Varric's soft chuckle eased Hawke's mind, if only a little. "Hawke, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to take over my job."

"Varric, I hardly would wish to become a sly, cunning, but roguishly handsome dwarf," she offered, her lips in a crescent. "It sounds like a lovely disposition but I'm afraid I can't pull it off quite as you do."

"Hawke, you're making me blush," the dwarf replied, his voice full of charm.

She nodded her approval, a small laugh leaving her lips as she strode over to where Merrill was trailing Carver around the campsite. It still left a sour taste in her mouth when she looked at her brother but she was, at the very least, happy he was alive and well. She raised a brow when he wandered further down the coast to collect driftwood for a fire, Merrill still behind him no less than a foot at a time. This particularly irksome display made Hawke wonder if it was possible for Carver to even like the Elven mage. '_How could he? She's a mage!_' Such a thought made her curious as to whether or not something changed in him the day they had watched the corruption of the Knight Commander. When Cullen had ordered her to step-down, her wrath had been released upon all of them and it surely shook the very order itself. At times like this, Hawke found herself unsure as to Carver's feelings. He had wanted to find his place in the world and had chosen the Templars. But when what he had found was a contradiction, an order following a leader who abused her power and title, how could he possibly feel good about it? It made Hawke herself feel bad for him and she wasn't so different from the apostates his order hunted. Her title and status may have protected her in Kirkwall but in the end she was sure Meredith would've turned on her even if she had sided with the Commander and chosen the Templars. But she refused this. It went against every fiber of her being, order be damned. That everyone she'd strived to help had suffered, or made her look like a complete fool and idiot in the end was just another reminder that not all good deeds were repaid. '_Not all when they should be, anyway._'

Sighing, Hawke decided to go off for a bit, in desperate need to clear her head from all the dilemmas she'd managed to stick her foot into as a result of what she chalked up to be a series of bad decisions. '_And here I was…only trying to provide for my family, and help my friends,_' she thought bitterly. Her mind had taken yet another turn for the worst, playing tricks on her when she thought she'd finally be able to gain some peace. The little hill up the Wounded Coast offered a small reprieve for her as she could see out into the vast ocean, the waves crashing and calming her frayed nerves. She could still hear her friends moving about camp, setting up, arguing, bickering and laughing as they did so; the wind carried their voices to her where she could ensure they were still safe, for now. Hawke let her eyes wander up and down the sandy shore, trying to grasp a sliver of serenity before all hell erupted from below and swallowed her whole. She wouldn't go down without a good, hard fight but it didn't mean she liked the idea anymore that she already hated it. Her staff felt heavy in its holster on her back, a constant reminder of what she was, of the curse she was born to bear in the eyes of the Chantry and the Templars, of those innocents who fled from the powers of a magic born child. It weighed heavily upon her heart to think that someone like her, someone who wanted to help people, wanted to save them, was viewed as a monster, further reinforced by those mages who would take it upon themselves to destroy lives; or use extreme measures. And once again the self-righteous mast of that ship reared its ugly head and her thoughts came crashing down like a hurricane, throwing her out to sea shortly after. _'Anders.'_ The name was like a blissfully ignorant heaven and hell that slid its way up and down the expanse of her skin with such calculated, unbridled agony and ecstasy, only pausing briefly to leave a sweet, chocolate, velvet laden lust and love in its wake.

The breeze seemed to carry whispers not only of sweet nothings she could covet, but also of warnings she should heed for future ventures. No fool to such signs, Hawke sat to further ponder their predicament in hopes to find a reasonable resolution that would prove useful and fruitful. She didn't want to run for the rest of her life despite her acceptance of this reality. She figured the best way to deal with all this was to take the bull by the horns, take the problem head on and ask questions later. '_Or make sarcastic comments as I usually do.'_ Her quips tended to lighten the mood but at times she knew it caused severe aggravation for her companions, especially Fenris. She shuddered at that thought. She knew what she done hadn't, technically, betrayed Anders or his trust; but she still felt horrible nonetheless. And she hadn't been the one to forsaken him in a way that would damn them to sure death. She could be jealous of his inability to feel much remorse but she knew this stemmed from the spirit inside him. Vengeance had turned the tables, corrupted him as much as Anders ideals had corrupted the spirit. The irony of the situation didn't seem funny to her but she laughed anyway, glad that it wasn't lost on her. She hadn't been sure that she'd be able to laugh after the destruction of the Circles and Kirkwall. Sighing, Hawke let her eyes wander back to the ocean in an attempt to calm her raging heart and troubled mind. She'd had so little downtime that didn't involve her normal debates on philosophy and such that she knew she needed to make time for herself.

So much of her time was taken up by Anders and thoughts of him that she decided to wander away, even if it wasn't always physically. But Maker did she love him with every fiber of her being, every inch of her heart, every shred of her soul. His caress is what she craved, what she needed to keep her alive, to sustain the very spark that made her breathe. He was all the things she feared and hated; all the things she loved and desired. The magic that thrummed through his veins, that permeated the very space around him and beckoned to her like a dream haze, would be her undoing. Whenever he was around she felt as if liquid fire and electricity was running a constant current through her bloodstream, wrapping her up in a soothing blanket of feigned comfort. She truly believed that she couldn't resist his aura, his being, his magic and his love. She felt powerless to make him see this, too. _'We're on a journey…quit your foolish thoughts of this man.'_ Shaking her head, Hawke tried to focus herself on their current quest of finding the Hero of Ferelden. _'Foolishness will be the end of you, stupid girl!'_ She was sure, at this point, it would be a while before she felt an inch of desire to return to camp from her hiding spot, a while before she felt like being around her companions. For now, she was going to stay on the cliff she inhabited, lost in memories that reminded her of time long ago.

* * *

_Hawke had finished her letters and duties to the Amell clan earlier that afternoon, and now found her wandering around the Elven Alienage of Kirkwall in search of Merrill. The Dalish Elf had done a fabulous job of hiding, left alone by the Templars. But the Champion had a feeling that part of this had Varric involvement. 'Dasiy, as he calls her, right?' The nickname that Varric gave the elf seemed suited to her innocence but not much else. Merrill was anything but an innocent mage; naïve yes, innocent not at all. "I suppose that should be based on what one considers innocent…" Hawke was muttering to herself when she found she had stopped directly in front of the Blood Mage's abode. The door was opened a crack and when Hawke peered inside she could see Merrill carrying a load of dishes that looked ready to topple over. Rushing over, she caught the tail end as Merrill almost tripped._

"_Merrill…next time, just make two trips."_

"_Oh, Hawke! Good afternoon. I didn't know you'd be visiting me today." The Elf blushed profusely at her clumsiness._

"_Well, I didn't exactly tell you but I have been planning on it. I apologize for it being so late. I've been so very busy in the high end of society…worthless as it is to me," Hawke replied, aggravated by the thought of pointless parties and such. _

"_But you must be doing it for a reason?" Merrill blinked. "Your mother?"_

"_Yes, everything is for my mother." Hawke's response didn't surprise herself or Merrill. She gestured to the quaint table that Merrill had decorated with an arrangement of flowers that looked eerily enchanted. "Decorating? I see the place looks a little more…forest like, lately. Is it because you miss home?"_

_Merrill nodded her easy agreement. "Oh sure, I miss the forest. I didn't quite picture the elves living in such close quarters but you have such lovely crime here. It's quite fascinating. And you, Hawke? Do you miss home? Do you miss Lothering?"_

_Hawke looked pensive as she tried to choose her words. "I do, at times, yes. But I've made Kirkwall my home now. And all of my friends and remaining family are here…" she paused. "I don't miss it as much these days, I suppose."_

"_Have you spoken to your brother?"_

_Hawke tensed at this but Merrill didn't seem to notice at all. "Not since he joined the Templars. I do not think Carver misses that I am his sister nor do I think he has any interest in my life other than capturing an apostate."_

"_Give him time, Hawke. I'm sure he'll come around?" The question in her voice made Hawke smile a little._

'_Young, naïve Merrill, so sweet and dangerous at the same time.' The Champion smiled at her friend, eyes kind. "I think it will take quite some time but yes…hopefully he will if not for our sakes, then for my mother's. Thank you Merrill, for your concern." A comfortable silence ensued. "Merrill…why did you choose not to become keeper of your clan?"_

_The Elf sighed heavily. "It wouldn't have worked…I was too interested in other things. I have all the knowledge but not the desire. Keep Marithari would only have been disappointed. And I want to discover more of our history, which is forbidden." Hawke blinked at her in curiosity. "I want to piece the Eluvian back together. But the demon I sought has begun to ignore me."_

"_Merrill…dabbling in blood magic and consorting with demons isn't really the best method, even if you want to reawaken the Eluvian." Hawke's tone was gentle but firm, her words honest though Merrill's brow pinched at this. "All I'm saying is…consider other ways before you decide this is the only one."_

"_Okay Hawke…I will try," she answered, wringing her hands together and gazing at the floor nervously. It was quiet again for a moment before the mage looked at Hawke. "Say…would you mind going shopping with me this afternoon? I haven't really run into any Templars, lately, so I thought it'd be fun."_

"_As girls, huh?" Hawke's eyes lighted up at the task though she couldn't say she loved shopping. But it'd be nice to get her mind off everything that had been happening. A nice shopping trip was ideal over another adventure followed by injuries and a visit to Anders clinic. Surely such a thing was harmless? Nodding, she stood up. "Get your pack Merrill. We can go right away. I do need to get some enchantments done and buy my mother a gift."_

"_Oh, I know. I bet she'd love some finery made from Spider Silk!"_

_Hawke laughed as they headed towards the door. "Merrill, you have such good taste. No wonder my mother loves you so much." It was true that Leandra very much enjoyed Merrill's company since the young woman was so inquisitive and willing to learn more things about human customs, traditions and lifestyles. It probably helped, too, that Merrill would enchant just about anything that was plant life. For Leandra's birthday the previous year Merrill had enchanted a beautiful rose for the older woman and given it to her as a memento of the garden she'd probably had in Lothering. To say her mother was pleased was an understatement; Leandra had been so touched she'd hugged the mage. Hawke did not ever let her mother know that Merrill was a blood mage, content to know that he mother was happy that she had friends, particularly following the departure of Carver. It'd been so long since Hawke had seen her mother happy—Bethany's death had been a heavy burden she'd born all too willingly. If anything, she blamed herself for her younger sister's death, and utterly blamed herself for Carver joining the Templars. 'If I had been a better sister…if I had just stopped them…' her thoughts were wandering again and she knew they would only sour further if she kept on with it. Leandra had never actually voiced forgiveness for what happened but she had never confessed further accusations towards Hawke either. In fact, she'd been strangely secretive as of the late. It seemed off that her mother would be so quiet, especially after voicing her outspoken opinions of Hawke finding a suitable man to marry. 'Like that will ever happen.'_

_The thought of marrying a snob from Hightown did not sound the least bit appealing to the Champion; neither did marriage in general. Sure she wouldn't mind having fun with a few of them but even then, it fell short of what she desired. Steering away from a train of thought that would surely damn her, Hawke walked steadily next to her fellow apostate mage as they made their way through Lowtown, eyeing the various merchants' goods and wares. Merrill had paused at an Apparel Merchant who was advertising fine silk robes and boots covered in embroidered flowers. The mage seemed taken with all the finery, her eyes alight with appreciation and awe. And Hawke was not the least bit surprised that the elf's eyes alighted with appreciation for the finery pattern—flowers. The plant aspect to it held an allure that even Hawke couldn't begin to understand, not on such an intimate level. She may have lived on a farm in Lothering but she was not as in touch with nature as Merrill. Elves had that advantage of knowing nature, of having a special relationship with it, only further enhanced by the fact that she was Dalish, a mage and the 1__st__ to the Keeper of her Clan. Not that she was complaining. She had enough on her plate with her current duties and just being a mage with a strong connection to the Fade. _

"_Hawke, I think you should get this one for your mother."_

_The Champion looked over to see Merrill pointing to the robe she'd been eyeing for the past few minutes, her smile wide and eyes dancing with life. Nodding, Hawke handed the merchant coin and took the robe with thanks. "Wow Merrill…this is a nice one. Thank you for finding it. I think mother will appreciate it. You have good taste."_

"_N-no…not really," Merrill stuttered._

_Hawke laughed. "Merrill, just say thank you."_

_Flustered, Merrill nodded. "Yes, thank you Hawke."_

_The older woman smiled, placing a hand on her fellow mage's shoulder. "No, thank you Merrill, for getting me away from my troubles for today. And for a positively lovely afternoon." _

_The smiles that lit both their faces were light, happy; Hawke knew she would always remember their shopping trip._

* * *

Hawke awoke with a start, her hair full of sand and face equally stuck with it as she had a thin layer of sweat on her cheeks. In the distance she could make out the firelight dancing over her companions' faces, the darkness having come swiftly while she'd dozed off. '_Why had no one awakened me?'_ She was surprised no one had come looking for her with such a long absence. Sighing, she righted herself, stretching lazily as her stiff muscles cried out in pain. She was about to stand when a voice startled her.

"You were sleeping for quite some time."

She blinked the grogginess from her eyes. '_I should've known they wouldn't let me stay here all night unguarded._' Nodding slowly, she brought her gaze back to the wild ocean, not seeing the crashing waves as clearly as before though the moonlight bathed them magnificently. "How long exactly?"

"About 3 or 4 hours."

Silence ensued and Hawke would've been grateful had it been anyone else. "You know…I suppose I should thank you for what you did today. I owe you my life…again, it seems."

Hawke wanted to snort at this "thanks" but held it in, inclining her head to look at him. "I suppose I should bid you welcome then, shouldn't I, brother? Or would that seem another ploy of mine to overshadow your accomplishments?"

Carver seemed on edge, his jaw tight and eyes weary. "I did not wish this, you know."

"And I did?" Hawke snapped back though her voice held fatigue and depression in its wake. "I'm willing to bet you think that I did ask for this."

"You chose that mage, that abomination! You chose to let him live when you should have killed him!" Carver's voice was angry, accusatory.

Hawke took all of this in stride, as she always did. The subject of Anders was not something she was unaccustomed to discussing. She'd become quite prepared to discuss it at great lengths ever since they'd fled Kirkwall, and even before then. Sighing in annoyance, she remained silent, her actions a signal that he could continue his rant without interruption. When he said nothing, she smirked in irritation. "Well? Go one brother, I am listening most intently."

"Your sarcasm does you justice, as usual. This is not something you, of all people, should take so lightly sister. You have pledged your allegiance to an Abomination, a creature most foul, one who murdered innocents! He would destroy all that is good in the name of Justice, desecrating the ideals of what is right. He would tear apart that which has brought order to all of Thedas. He would have your heart ripped out from your very ribcage by a Spirit full of hate. How can you be so cavalier about what he has done?" Hawke flinched, involuntarily, at his words, knowing the truth in them. He was angry at her, confused by her choices—could she blame him? She knew she could not; but to her credit, she would let him vent and be angry. She was first, and foremost, his older sister. Carver continued on, stopping but for a breath. "How could you continue to let him live, walking as a free man? How can you even bear to look at him when all he has done has brought ruin to everything you sought to reconstruct?"

At that Hawke finally stood, her back to him as she looked out at the ocean, eyes stinging. She knew she could not deny what he said but it didn't mean she was going to accept it and do nothing. "Are you finished?" Her voice was surprisingly gentle, lacking its usual sarcasm and playful tone. The lack of coldness, too, took Carver by surprise and he paused, catching his breath again. His sister was oddly silent after her question, as if waiting for a response. When he said nothing she turned to him, eyes impassive and posture neutral. "I have listened Carver, to everything you have said. And while you make some very excellent points, I cannot fully agree or dispute your claims. I cannot begin to explain my reasoning, nor do I care to offer such a courtesy. But know this, brother. I have done what I must, and I will continue to do so for all those I can help. We may not see eye to eye but you can count on this: I will protect you, even if you hate me. As for our differences, they will always exist but I will not let anyone hurt you. This is all I have to offer. Goodnight, brother."

As she walked away she could feel Carver's puzzlement wash over her but offered no further explanation or statements for clarity. All she wanted to do was disappear, be carried away with the changing winds of time and space. Their talk may not have gone as planned but Hawke was tired, weighed down by their impending journey. She wanted to scream at him, tear him apart as she had so many in Kirkwall. But their already fragile sibling rivalry needn't impede on their quest. The importance of finding the Hero of Ferelden lay in her grasp so fragile and sensitive, she couldn't afford to damage it. When she breached the edge of the campsite she could see that Aveline and Donnic were standing watch over the camp. Merrill and Varric had retired to their tents. Isabella was humming a seductive tune next to the campfire, seemingly in a trance as she did so. Hawke smiled at her friends, glad that they were occupied with something other than blatant worry. In the distance she could see Fenris practicing combat tactics under the moonlight and she paused for a moment, appreciating his finesse and physique. On the battlefield he was a force to be reckoned with, impressively agile, swift and precise in his movements. He was the ultimate weapon, his body crafted so by his master and physical appearance honed by years of fighting. Smiling a little, Hawke thanked the Maker Fenris was her friend and ally; she'd hate to be on the receiving end of his fist.

Shaking her head, Hawke soon realized that there was one person missing from their party. Glancing around, she could not find Anders anywhere in sight. She knew that the others would not look for him and it was likely that he had made himself scarce as night fell. She was sure he had wandered off somewhere in the darkness, content to be solitary and converse with no one other than the wretched spirit inhabiting his mind, body and soul. Hawke felt slight aggravation grip her as she walked away from the campsite in search of the mage in question, hoping this would grant them a short moment alone. She had many things to discuss with him, things not permitted when the others were present, things concerning outbursts by the Spirit. So it was seconds later that she discovered his hiding spot, around a bend of the campsite hidden by brush, small bushes and a collection of high, jagged stones. He seemed troubled as always, his back to her as he gazed at the floor, profile pale in the silver lighting. His hands were resting loosely on his staff as it lay splayed across his outstretched knees. His head was bowed so deeply she thought he might have been crying but upon her rounding the bend, he brought his gaze up towards her. Their eyes met and Hawke's heartbeat quickened at the emotions that flitted across his cinnamon orbs. She inhaled sharply as they stared at each other, seconds feeling like hours as she remained in her spot, unmoving. Finally he looked away from her, his fingers curling around his staff as if to keep himself from flinging it at her.

"You shouldn't disappear on your own. There could be Templars looking for us out here."

Anders chuckled bitterly. "I can guarantee that they wouldn't live very long. Then again…you already knew that."

Wincing, Hawke tried to ignore the pain and despair in his words. "It would've been nice if you had mentioned that you were going to wander off somewhere, Anders."

"You were sleeping. I thought you needed rest." His face was void of expression. "I doubt anyone would care if Templars caught me. Your brother looks ready to turn me in as we speak. And the Elf would have me impaled on his fancy fist at the first moment possible."

"You're wrong," she whispered. _'I would care if you were caught. I would die, Anders.' _He gave no response and Hawke sighed, figuring he hadn't heard her. "Why…why do you fight me? Why do you do this?"

"I do not deserve you, Hawke. I've told you countless times before. I cannot bear to taint you. When the Templars come for us…they will have me, and I alone will suffer the consequences. Vengeance's desire to free the mages may have been quenched when the Circle rebelled and the Templars and the Chantry were thrown into chaos. But he has a new desire, a new thirst." Anders face became shadowed with the most haunted look the Champion had ever seen. It sent a chill down her spine. "He thirsts for your blood, for the end of your existence. He will win, Hawke. And you will have to kill me, or be killed." The finality of his words still didn't sink in, or she refused them, rather. Anders exhaled heavily, his shoulders sagging in burden. "I should have died that night. You should have killed me and led the cause yourself."

"I…I can't," she replied, voice soft and tense. "You know…you cannot ask this of me."

"What would you have me do, then?" He rounded on her, blue cracks beginning to peak through his skin, eyes misted with ominous blue-grey. She could feel the Fade coursing through him as he stood, staff at his side. "You would have me destroy you and all your friends? Vengeance will make it so Hawke, and even you cannot stop him! I will not risk that. I refuse to!"

Fear began to rise in her chest as she watched him approach, the ever present blue cracks intensifying, becoming brighter. "Anders…calm down. Please stop yelling. I wanted to speak peacefully. Control your anger!"

"I cannot…he is too strong. Do not bait me, Hawke, please, I beg you…" Anders facial expression became agonized as he fell to his knees, clutching his head as his staff clattered to the sand. **"You are pushing us, Mage! I only hope you do so further so that I can be rid of you." **

Hawke felt a tremor of fright paralyze her at the voice of Vengeance as Anders faded back into the recesses of his mind. _'I have a knack for getting on peoples' bad sides. And now, let me add spirits to the list!'_ her own internal sarcasm did not ease her conscience as she tried to think of a way to make the spirit retreat and bring Anders back. It didn't seem she needed to as, before her eyes, the blue faded and Anders fell to his knees, breathing heavy and perspiring as he did every instance he fought for control. Rooted to her spot, Hawke could only watch as he recollected himself, waiting for him to give her some signal that it was safe to approach him or something. Minutes passed, his heavy panting the only sound aside from the crashing waves in the distance. After what felt like an eternity of nervous waiting, which left Hawke an anxious wreck—it did not show—Anders regained his composure and leaned back on his haunches. Again, their eyes met, his brown pair weary and tired from things she thought she could not begin to understand or fathom. But Hawke was through with letting him run away every time this happened, which was frequently as of the late. Reaching out a hand to him, she helped pull him up. As soon as his landed in her grasp there was an electric spark that shot through her like a lightning bolt, the current so strong that it jolted her. She fell, unceremoniously, shocked as Anders, too, fell again. They sat their, eyes widened as each mage stared at his and her respective hands, marveling as the electricity that crackled on their flesh. It was as if the very connection between them was so deeply aligned that neither could touch the other without igniting it. Perturbed, Anders quickly stood up, his expression unreadable as he bade her a hasty goodnight and vanished around the bend she'd come from previously.

Hawke could only continue to stare at her hand in awe, watching in alarm as the lightning jumped to and fro on her fingertips. She had cast no spell and neither had Anders. The purple-hued energy that danced wildly at her fingertips felt powerful but seductive, calling to her through the sensations and current embedding itself into the skin of her palm. It seemed to sing a sweet, passionate song into her ears, foreign but alluring as it cracked loudly. As she patiently awaited the sparks to die down, a curious feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. For once, Hawke couldn't figure out what she felt. She could think, couldn't put into words the weight that settled there. For once she was speechless.

And this is what scared her more than anything.

* * *

_Next stop, Isabella's boat, and maybe the holding cells in the hold…for some intimate moments between whatever lovebirds have been established. Their journey is really going to start in the next chapter but I had to get some Merrill/Hawke friendship in there. Shouldn't be too many flashbacks from here on out, just more plotline, I hope. Thanks!_

_~Sadistickunais_


	5. Chapter 5

Note to Disclaimers: I do not and never will own Dragon Age: Origins, Awakening, or Dragon Age 2, etc. All characters are the property of BioWare, etc, and this is NOT for profit.

A/N: Chapter 5, woo! The pairing remains FemHawke(mage)/Anders but there will be references to a past slight romance with Fenris. There shouldn't be as many LONG flashbacks from now on but there will be some, here and there. The other big character in this is Isabella, FYI, from here on out. I LOVE ISABELLA. There will be more for each but she will have bigger parts as there is a major Hawke/Isabella friendship here. That said…you like it, you read. You don't well…you know this part. Constructive Criticism is welcome. Thanks.

'_Thought' & Flashbacks_

"**Justice"**

"Speaking"

Everything else

* * *

**Praevāricātor (Chapter 5)**

Grogginess is what enticed Hawke so early in her current state, the rich caress of promised sleep a soothing mixture to her fatigue addled mind. Throwing an arm over her eyes, Hawke tried to block out the sun as it beat down upon her with a wrath most unfair. The ship hold did not offer nearly enough darkness for the former Champion of Kirkwall as she attempted to catch up on much needed sleep while Fenris, Aveline, Carver and Donnic stayed on the upper reaches of the Siren's Call. Isabella's magnificent ship was in fine condition, a thing of beauty in their dimly lit world. But Hawke would be a two-faced liar if she admitted that it was comfortable in the holding cells. Isabella's sleeping quarters needed some cleaning, which is where Merrill and Varric happened to be, though the dwarf was disgruntled by this assigned task. Merrill, who had spent the latter half of some months straightening out her own house, seemed more or less diligent to the task of cleaning out the sleeping area. At some point, Hawke was sure she'd seen Varric sneak off and leave the blood mage to do all the work_. 'Probably punishment for her being a blood mage.'_ So there she was, resting in a holding cell on something that resembled an ill-fitted, dilapidated cot, whilst everyone else remained above in the vague sunshine. She could hear Isabella's sing-song voice drifting down through the opening that led topside; Anders hushed, soft baritone accompanied it.

She could hear more than see Fenris walking around, the clanking of his gauntlets loud enough to penetrate the floorboards of the boat. His steps, however, were light and quick, the heavy armor paling in comparison to the thunderous sound of Aveline and Donnic's armor. Carver's might as well sink the ship, what with how heavy and bulky it was. The sweet, humming of Dalish folk songs drifted from the side of the ship where Merrill was working away, her steps, too, light and quick like Fenris'. _'Must be an elf thing,'_ Hawke mused as she rolled over. Her sides hurt, fingers still tingling with liquid electricity from the previous night. Her mind slowly focused on the strange but exhilarating occurrence, the rendezvous between her and Anders fresh, raw, undiluted. It seemed only hours ago that their hands meeting had ignited a power between them that scared her into such rabid speechlessness. She could not fathom why this was—they'd held hands, connected flesh, many a time before; why was now any different? Yet she could not deny that the spark that passed between them this time was unlike anything she'd ever felt with him, with anyone. It was if the very essence of the Fade traveled between their joined hands, their skin a conductor. It was strange to her, how she'd felt it in every fiber of her body, not just their connected hands. It felt deeper, delved into the core of her body unlike any magic she'd ever come in contact with in all her days of practice. The effect it had left her scared, shaking, trembling inside like a child.

Hawke didn't like it, not one bit.

Such a strong, magically infused connection could only signal of worse things yet to come for them. It had her on edge in a way she hadn't quite experienced in years, not since she'd first discovered her mage powers. The feeling, it seemed, was mutual of Anders himself. He'd looked haunted as he stumbled away from her, his departure leaving an oddly cold feeling in its wake as he disappeared. Hawke couldn't describe the feeling in the pit of her stomach but she could describe the one in her heart. The emptiness that settled there was magnified by the fact that his constant refusal left her desire stronger rather than weaker. Her love for him only seemed to intensify the more he pushed her away. It wasn't, to her, some silly game they would continue to play until all of Thedas was razed to the ground. No, for Hawke it was a race to the finish line, a finish line that constantly changed, inching further and further out of her grasp. It drove her mad, the lengths he went to push her away rather than let them be together, damned and all. She had reached a point where she knew that to be with him was to ask for death at the hands of Templars, Circle Mages, and Thedas. To be without him, however, was asking for a slow, painful death at the hands of her own sanity. The self hate she felt only worked in their favor, the damnation she faced a testament to how far she was willing to go for the man she loved. Blind love, infatuation, lust—these concepts no longer seemed to encompass what she knew and felt for the man. As a "former" Grey Warden, Anders only had so long to live and she suspected that he'd already used a fair amount of years in the short lifespan he'd been granted. If they were going to die young then she hoped it would be together. The sooner he let her in then, the sooner they'd be happy, if only for a short while.

"Hawke, get up here for a moment, would you, sweet thing?"

Isabella's voice sounded semi-urgent and she could hear Aveline's rushed footsteps walking above her. She wasn't sure what had happened in the short time she'd awakened to now but it didn't sound good. Pushing her weary thoughts back into the darker recesses of her stressed mind, Hawke ordered her body to ascent the stairs to the main deck, steps heavy. When she reached the outside of the hold she was peeved to find Anders at the helm with the Pirate Captain and Fenris being held back by Aveline and Donnic. Clearly Isabella's tone did not forewarn her of a fight between he Elven Warrior and Corrupted mage. Sighing, Hawke made her way between them as a mother would to ward off an oncoming fight between her two children. Anders, his hands glowing with a soft blue hue, demonstrated his distaste for the warrior, the misty aura surrounding his entire body—Hawke was relieved to see his eyes were still the light brown of his own body. The mage before her was silent, his shoulders tight and body in such a volatile position that she knew something had pierced a nerve, though for how long he'd maintain control, she didn't know. She didn't sense Vengeance but they all knew it did not mean he wasn't lurking just on the precipice of Anders' thoughts. As for her friend, Fenris was opposite the mage, his own lyrium infused body glowing but practiced control keeping his from mowing down his friends. Surely Aveline and Donnic knew how dangerous the Elf was in this state, yet neither seemed to radiate fear. Hawke didn't understand, couldn't fathom why now, when all of Thedas was against them and the world had been forced into a violent change, they couldn't seem to at least try and avoid each other for the sake of a shaky truce.

Both men, she knew, were strong and equally matched. Fenris may have been a Warrior and direct in his fighting, but mages possessed all kinds of spells to disorient and mess with the minds of those not immune to their spells. Anders may have had Vengeance at his disposal but it didn't protect him, defensively, where Fenris could easily slice him in two if the opening presented itself and the Elf was close enough to inflict such a wound. Regardless of strength or magic, both men would end up killing each other, one not truly out powering the other. In her eyes, neither of these men could win a fight, neither could best each other; not would she give them the chance to do so. If they ended up battling at some other point in time where they weren't attached to her, then so bet it. But not while she was around to keep and eye on them, and have them accompany her on a mission to correct the whole of Thedas. _'Imbeciles…'_ Annoyed, Hawke shot Anders an irritated glance as Isabella smirked her own sentiments on the whole fiasco.

"Maker…can either of you remain anywhere in the same area without wanting to kill each other?" She knew it was a rhetorical question to ask, a loaded and somewhat unfair inquiry; but Hawke was tired of having to break them up. In retrospect, she was ready to let them just kill each other and save her the grief. "I cannot stand to constantly be breaking up fights, protecting my friends and those I love! Who started this…argument, tiff, whatever you call it?" When no one answered she simply rolled her eyes. Both men tensed further, not at all relenting in their hostility, so much so Hawke threw her hands up in the air and began walking away. "Forget I said anything. If you need to kill each other…can you please just go do it far away from everyone else? I have more important matters to attend to."

She didn't care to look back. However, if she had, she would've seen that both men dropped their battles stances instantly, Anders turning away in shame and Fenris whirling around in steady embarrassment. Isabella's girlish chuckles drifted after Hawke but she didn't feel like giving any of them another thought. Her mind was tired, her body refusing to cooperate with her, and her heart aching like she'd felt when fleeing Lothering. Again, she wished her little sister was with them, the sweet, soothing words of Bethany's encouragement recollecting in her thoughts as she made her way back towards the bunking chambers of the ship. All seemed to have fallen into relative silence topside and the Champion decided she would try to get some rest again in preparation for what was only the real beginning out a long, arduous and treacherous journey into Ferelden. Amaranthine was their first stop, amongst many to come, on the quest to find the Hero of Ferelden. It made sense as Amaranthine had the most recent Grey Warden Post there, Vigil's Keep. Anders had provided the information willingly and without any commentary, an unusual occurrence for him, one that made Hawke's heart ache to see more and more of him disappear before her very eyes. She wondered, idly, that when all was said and done would there be anything left of the man she loved? It was a concept she had been aggressively trying to ignore, or pay little attention to, in the midst of all that was happening. It was more than a saddening thing; it was slowly chipping away at whatever semblance of a heart she had left.

Hawke liked to think she was strong willed, compassionate, ruthless when called for, full of the courage to do what was necessary. But she hadn't back in Kirkwall. Righteousness told her to slay the mage, avenge all those innocents he had killed. But righteousness also demanded she leave his fate to the Maker, that she could not take the law into her own hands and abuse the laws of life as she had been doing for so long. That humans did so of their own accord had no bearing on her own morals, Hawke admitted. Something nagged at her in that instance—love aside—and reprimanded her hands from taking his life as he had, so causally it seemed, taken those of the Grand Cleric and many others. Yet when she looked into his warm brown eyes she did not see a murderer or a man who cared not for the lives of others. '_Sometimes the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few._' She had heard this phrase many a time over but it didn't seem to apply in every instance. The fact that everything seemed so relative made her wonder if she was losing her mind. She certainly felt like she did. Anything could be justified; anything could be twisted and corrupted. Her murdering criminals did not make it just though this would be argued otherwise; it was taking the law into its one's own hands, playing the Maker. The system would never change with its exceptions, she chanted as she curled into herself on the makeshift bed provided in the hold. Making mages Tranquil was a more peaceful resolution than killing them, but it was so cruel that death seemed the better option. She knew, personally as a mage, she would rather die a thousand times over than become Tranquil. To never wonder at the warmth of the sun, marvel at the beauty of the sea, appreciate the magnificence of the earth underneath her feat or feel the caress of a zephyr again was unfathomable. Hawke knew that the tranquil solution was no solution at all. It was, once again, playing the Maker. On the flipside, she argued mentally, using magic and blood to seduce and sway people, taking away their will, was no better. Hawke sat up suddenly, her mind focused on what she saw as the biggest issue in between: trust.

"There's such a lack of trust…until that is mended, there will never be peace between the Mages or the Templars. The Chantry is the middleman, the compromise. But to remain so does nothing and there will never be…a truce," Hawke muttered under her breath in the silence.

"Hawke, are you talking to yourself?"

Blushing furiously, the Champion could only nod in response. "Yes…Merrill, I didn't know you'd come back in here."

"Oh, yes! I finished the other room. It looks most beautiful now. Well, as pretty as possible on this ship with Isabella's limited supplies." When Merrill brought her eyes to Hawke's she could see a smile on the other woman's lips. "Oh…I apologize. I'm rambling again, aren't I?"

"It's adorable, really," Hawke replied lightly, glad to have her mind distracted from her weary thoughts. "Would you like to show me what you've done? I'd like to see what an elven touch does to a ship like this."

Merrill blushed profusely. "Hawke, you shouldn't tease like that…my skills aren't usually used for good. Or so Fenris has told everyone else around."

"Yes well…Fenris will be Fenris. And you will be you, Merrill," Hawke supplied, her smile even as she followed Merrill to the back of the hold where no light seemed to reach and everything felt murkier. But once back there she had to nod her appreciation and congratulate the Dalish mage. Merrill had done a fantastic job in fixing up the boring, desolate wooden area with what means she did have. And boy had she done a wonderful job. The entire area was covered with decently cleaned linens, the atmosphere radiating tranquility and earthy nature. While there were no actual vines creeping around the place or flowers blooming, the air seemed to soothe like that of the wind blowing through the forest trees. It smelled crisp inside as opposed to the rank smell of old boots, sailors' musk and dirty socks. Isabella hadn't been lying when she said the Siren's Call had housed a boatload of men before she'd lost it all to Castillion. But now it smelled of sweet scents that were, more than likely, magically infused with Merrill's own magic, the change in the area quite pleasant. Astounded, Hawke turned to the mage who was already blushing madly. "Merrill…this is beautiful. You've done such spectacular work here. I'm truly impressed, and thankful. I wasn't looking forward to sharing the ship hold with old memories the entire trip to the Coastlands."

"I…yes, well, I…" Merrill stammered, cheeks rosy. "I felt I could help best here. Isabella tells me to stay away from Fenris…and Anders does not like me. I suppose this was the best idea."

Hawke shook her head in internal aggravation at the thought that everything was getting more and more complicated as time passed; it was bound to worsen rather than lessen. Sighing, she motioned for Merrill to join her as she took a seat on one of the cots, glad at the feel of the clean linens. "Merrill…do you want to be here?"

The Dalish Mage looked thoughtful, her large, iridescent eyes narrowing. "Well I…suppose I didn't want a full out war with humans…but I like being here. You're the first friend I've had since leaving my people. And they didn't even want me there." The young woman looked at Hawke, a smile on her eyes as she nodded. "I do want to be here Hawke. You're my friend. My magic is yours."

Hawke felt relief fill her, shortly followed by guilt. The dedication they had all shown her made the guilt worse; she'd condemned them to live as fugitives. Regardless of the fact that Aveline had pointed out it was their own choice to do so, this did not lift the anger and despair that accompanied the relief in her psyche. She wished that it had been different, that it had been planned, that it had not been so forced. She was tired, more tired than she could remember. Signaling her thanks, Hawke granted Merrill a short embrace. "Thank you Merrill. Will you…please tell the other I am napping? I need to rest a bit. Wake me when it's dinner time, if we're even having dinner?"

Merrill nodded. "Yes, of course. Get some rest, Hawke. You're going to need it."

* * *

Isabella breathed a heavy breath as his gauntlets dug into her mocha colored skin, pinning her deftly to the wall of the prisoner's cell. Every occupant on the Siren's call had fallen into a slumber of some sort long ago. But the two of them were pressed against the wooden wall of the cell, bodies entwined so intimately, so tightly, coiled together in lust. The Pirate Queen moaned when his hands reached under her derriere, lifting her up so she could straddle him as he pushed her further into the wooden boards, the panels slick against her sweaty skin. The top of her bodice had come half undone, the white material hanging off her shoulders as he kissed a pathway down her shoulder to her arm, his lips warm but rough just like she liked it. Isabella had never been one for gentle lovers—everything with her was quick, sly, fun. This was no different. The man had a power over her and others, raw and hungry, hot and coy, taught and hard. All the different words she could use still didn't seem quite right when describing what he was. Sighing breathlessly, she leaned viciously into his rough touch, the feel of his calloused fingers feeling surreal on her heated flesh.

"Your seduction is a prize to be won, Fenris."

The elf in statement chuckled against the warmth of her skin, his lips pausing ever so slightly against the soft, supple curve of her neck. Her muscles tensed when his teeth bit into the tender flesh as if marking her, though she would never allow this. But she said nothing as she dragged her clothed hands into his white hair, her head falling back against the wall. If anything, Fenris was a lover she could have over and over again without mind. She usually didn't do anything past one nights stands as they could easily be misconstrued as something more. Yet with him it was something she was, quite quickly, becoming addicted to purely on a sexual level—she did not consider more. This was a game they'd been playing since back in Kirkwall though the physical hadn't manifested itself until the night before when they'd almost been caught spying on the two mages on the beach.

_Isabella had taken it upon herself, as in many other instances, to go find Anders. She had noticed his disappearance albeit all too late and she had injured herself on a thorn bush while trying to catch a glimpse of Fenris washing his face in a nearby freshwater pond. She knew Hawke had vanished as well but figured the mage was trying to patch things up with her brother. Whatever the case, the rogue pirate needed a quick healing spell and decided finding the rebellious mage was her best option. She'd been wandering around the campsite with no luck when she noticed fresh footsteps in the sand though they were almost unrecognizable due to the slight wind factor. Shrugging, she followed them with little to no interest other than finding some pain relief, and quickly. What she'd seen had quickly made her hide, her eyes alight with curiosity at finding Anders sitting down with Hawke slightly to his side. They were conversing quietly, their hushed whispers making words incoherent. Straining her ears, she leaned forward a little too much, and all too late, before the realization that she might fall hit her head-on. 'Oh shit…'_

_A hand on her shoulder harshly steadied her and reeled her back, the gauntlets easily giving away the person's identity. She glanced back, coyly, even in her moment of gracelessness, and shot him a sexually charged smirk. He rolled his eyes. "What are you doing, pirate?"_

_She jerked her head in the direction of the conversing couple. "You're pretty eyes can't have missed that display." Fenris scowled while Isabella's smile widened. "What are you doing here? Spying too? Don't tell me you're jealous, Fenris. You don't seem the type."_

"_Neither do you," he replied, crouching down beside her to watch though his insides turned over at the sight._

"_I was looking for some quick healing," Isabella smiled again, this time all teeth, and Fenris raised an eyebrow. "Does the pouty elf want to get in Hawke's knickers?" His scowl deepened. "Oh…that's right. You already did. I'll bet it was a nice view."_

"_I did not have a view, as you call it. And I do not believe I liked the view I did manage," came the biting reply from the elf._

"_Well…" she murmured as she turned back to the spectacle they were now making, awaiting an outburst from a tense Fenris as the clear view of Justice started to peak through Anders' skin, the blue cracks igniting for but a moment before fading away all together. She brought her gaze back to his, the pain in his eyes evident but the plain wanton desire in hers catching him off-guard. "I like this view. I always have."_

"_Are you…?" He trailed off as she leaned back, her look coy as she shook her head. "Right. You're a pirate wench."_

"_I would find that mildly offensive if I didn't want to sink my claws into you, Elf," she answered good-naturedly, the pain from the thorn bushes forgotten. She wouldn't dare touch Fenris though she'd more than love to squeeze his bottom with her hands. But the lyrium infused in his body seemed to ward her off, a warning she'd received from Hawke long ago. "However…I'll take an apology in whatever form you'd like to give it. I can be all fun and games, Fenris, if you let me sing you the song of the Siren's Call."_

_It would've been sappy had she been any other person, but Isabella exuded undiluted lust and sexual deviance that made the aching blood in his veins boil. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a lover, or even a sexual partner. He almost had with Hawke that night but she'd quickly refused him once he'd removed her clothing. She'd muttered excuses and apologies before asking him to leave, which he'd done all too willingly. He knew why, and that pain drove him to hate the Apostate Abomination more than he'd hated anyone, Denarius being the only exception to this. He cared for her so much and she hadn't wanted him, not even his body. As a slave, even on the lowliest of levels, she hadn't wanted his body. He hadn't spoken to her for a while after that but he also couldn't quite blame her. He'd heard many things about love but controlling it was never one of them. Sighing, he looked back at Isabella, her offer clearly still standing as she continued to stare at him with that smirk of hers, hair windswept even with the head covering she wore. Her skin had a light sheen of perspiration coated with grains of sand from the coast, and her dark eyes sparkled. All in all, Fenris would be a liar if he didn't agree that she was attractive and alluring in her own way, very much like the sea itself. Weary as he was to accept her offer, something told him that he'd be a fool to pass up such an opportunity, especially when all of Thedas could go to hell any second. _

_And for the first time, in a long time, Fenris touched and let himself be touched by the Siren, as he now referred to her. Her hands, skilled from battles and escapades, brought his lyrium infused body to life, the scars hurting but her expert fingers quelling the pain with soft, wild touches. Her caress was filled with promises of relief to his agonized body, the pressure she applied to his markings just enough to agitate but soothe at the same time. It was interesting how Hawke's strokes on his skin that night had been nothing like Isabella's, though he didn't prefer one over the other given his lack of experience with the mage. But the magic infused in Hawke's fingers did not bode well when connecting with his markings, a feeling which he secretly found disturbing. And there was no magic in the Rivaini's fingertips, not anything connected to the Fade; only her special form of a siren's song. She had not been lying at all when she'd told him she could be fun and games with such. _

Both lovers came back to reality when Isabella's fingers raked down Fenris back with fervor, her body throbbing at the hardness pressing into her thighs. The Elf, if anything, was not to be dismissed for his lithe build. His body was a weapon crafted for battle and, to Isabella's delighted surprise, equally designed for sexual prowess. The way her body melded to his in the heat of the slightly dirty hold of her ship only caused her passion to rise. She'd always been one for the prowling characters of Lowtown: the whores, the drunken sailors, the timid townsmen and women searching in curiosity, the peasants selling their wares. The Brothel in Hightown would've been a favorite spot had it not been for all the nobles; instead she'd spent a lot of time in Hawke's estate, or in Fenris.' Whichever happened to take her fancy depended on her mood. Now, like many times before, she'd picture Fenris' lips on her bosom, his tongue working patiently on her breasts—but now it was a reality she lived. It had been a week since their affair had begun, since they'd set out to sail for Ferelden, and she had found her source of entertainment awaiting her each night. She'd think it was planned by the way it all panned out but neither were planners, per say. In fact, neither had given a passing thought to the fact that someone might hear them knocking boots in the prison cells, especially when Isabella had a Captain's quarters. For the same reason she loved Lowtown, Isabella loved the prisoner's cells in her ship—it was an exhilaratingly dirty, conspicuous place to get caught.

"Do you think anyone knows?"

Isabella blinked at Fenris, her hand pausing its ministrations on his body. "No, but so what if they do? Are you concerned about what people might think?"

He shook his head. "Not really. But it could complicate things."

"Complicate how?" She felt her mood souring at the sudden conversation and she nudged him away from her, feet touching the ground as she immediately started refastening the straps of her bodice. Fenris, as always, simply watched her. He never protested nor did he suggest she stop her task. It was the same every time. He was silent, awaiting her instruction, her direction. "Sorry, lovely but I should be getting back to my quarters."

Fenris nodded. "Goodnight."

She offered him a simple wave of her hand, sauntering off up the stairs to her Captain's room without a glance backwards. Fenris did not follow her; he did not stop her. And this was how Isabella fancied their special understanding to continue. As her hand reached the handle of the door she felt a sudden wave of annoyance. Half turning towards the stairs she'd just come from, she shot the gap a look of pure irritation. Isabella did not get attached to anyone or anything—with the exception of Hawke. Shaking her head, she opened the door and hoped that she wasn't growing fond of the elf. _'That's all I need to ruin everything.'_

* * *

There were days where Hawke felt like she could be a voyeur forever due to the fact that Anders looked more than delicious when he was bathing. The steady, rhythmic way he washed himself, methodical but sensual made her senses tingle. She wished he could see what he did to her when she looked at him, bathing aside. He was like a strange being, spirit and human, man and ideal, mage and rebellion, all wrapped up into a pretty package, an irresistible entity. How could he possibly expect her to resist him forever? It seemed odd that he had said that exact same thing to her in his clinic all those years ago. He had said as much, that she was the one who had bewitched him but that's not what she was trying to do back then; it was he who bewitched her, not the other way around She wanted his love, wanted him, the man and not the ideal, the human and not the spirit, the mage and not the rebellion. She wanted everything he had to give without Justice in the picture, even though she knew this was not probable. Back then, as a result, she'd taken both willingly, the lesser of two evils in way as she saw it. But it had not been so, and now she was paying the price for her choice.

However, this didn't seem at all relevant when she was currently trying to tear her eyes away from his hands wiping the grime and dirt from his porcelain skin, the contrast from the dark earth stark and bright. His hair was loose from his ponytail, the strands sticking to the skin at the base of his neck, the flaxen silk gleaming in the dim lighting as he washed. She could easily remember the last time both of them had bathed, and it had been a while—about a few weeks if she could correctly recall. Not that she was judging him based off this fact since it meant that she, too, was equally as filthy. Smiling ruefully to herself, she continued to gaze upon him, the fine tuned muscles of his shoulder blades rippling as he reached backwards to wipe some dirt from his back, the cloth revealing beautifully cleaned skin that made Hawke's fingertips ache in anticipation. Every part of her was screaming out to move from the shadows, to appear and surprise him with how well she could please him, how good she could make him feel. Her hands itched to touch any part of him that he would allow; she couldn't deal with the fantasy much longer. But he was fragile, the remembrance of their encounter days ago still aptly fresh, still seeping with forbidden whispers that she couldn't control as they whirled through her senses.

'_Anders…don't you have even the slightest clue what you do to me? You fool of a mage, you fool of a man_,' she thought with a heavy sigh. Her mental state may not have been nearly as delicate as his but it was deteriorating with each rejection slapped in her face by the man she loved. Shaking her head, Hawke let her eyes drift back to Anders, who was now washing his hair, his fingers thorough as he rubbed them through his cornflower hair with such precision, such careful concentration that it made heat rise to Hawke's cheeks. She couldn't help but picture those same fingers on her body, roaming the plains of her sun-kissed skin as he searched for the most intimate places on her body, as he tried to take her to new heights. Feeling heady with an unsatisfied need, Hawke let out a gasp of pleasure as she stumbled back a bit, embarrassment coloring her face as she brought her distracted gaze back to the basin. She felt her adrenaline rise when she realized that Anders was no longer in the basin; he'd disappeared. Disappointed that her show had come to an abrupt and unfruitful end, she turned away; face aflame with internal scolding at what she'd done but seconds ago.

"How long have you been watching me, Hawke?"

In any other instance her face might've flamed with the decency to be embarrassed but lately, Hawke was so preoccupied with trying to remain calm that she slipped into this mode without so much as a second thought. This didn't really shock the abomination; it didn't mean he wasn't concerned. Her usually expressive eyes were anything but that, the orbs staring back at him lackluster, without any curiosity. He assumed she must've discovered, by now, that he too knew she was watching him. It had made him shiver as he bathed, knowing that a pair of eyes—no, _her_ eyes—were focused so intently on him, that he hadn't been sure whether or not he should be bothered or flattered. After a few minutes he hadn't been able to take her passive gazing lightly; his body, hidden by the soap suds, had reacted of its own accord though nothing had shown. His ability to control his body was fading even now. Her impassive features sent chills up Anders spine but he did not retract his question. She merely blinked at him as though she hadn't heard a word he'd said.

"Pardon?" Her voice was even, possibly a little flat.

He exhaled steadily. "I know you've been here."

"Then why ask how long? You must already know," she replied without much emotion.

"Dammit Hawke…" he trailed, running a hand through his wet hair. She only answered him with another blank look. He couldn't understand why she did this, why they did this with each other. He wanted her; didn't she realize how dangerous of an idea that was, even now? Clearly she didn't because before he knew it, she was leaning into him, lips curved into a sly smile as she licked the shell of his ear, blowing a steady breath as she pulled back. Anders felt the shivers shoot through his spine at her feathered caress, feminine fingers dancing across the skin of his neck as she leaned in again, her lips pressing softly against his. Anders tensed against her, his body hard against her soft, womanly curves as she melded her body to his, hands sliding into his robe through the loosened front. He moaned into her mouth as her hands splayed against his abdomen, flattened palms applying pressure to old wounds and scars while she explored the expanse of his chest. It was strange, Hawke having the upper hand as she tried to rid him of his small clothes, the frustration audible as she grunted, tearing her lips away from his. She did not look at him and Anders found himself trying to see into her eyes while at the same time trying to pry her off. His mind battled with him, Vengeance demanding that he remove her, destroy her, or take her and be done with it. The internal war began to take its toll as he trembled against her exploration, fighting with Vengeance, demanding he stay out of what was happening. It was a moment Anders did not intend on sharing with his constant companion, a moment he was not about to let Vengeance taint with his hate and determination to claim Hawke.

He suddenly shifted his footing, the move causing an imbalance between them. Letting out an uncharacteristic yelp, Hawke tumbled backwards, her back connecting solidly with the wooden floorboards of the ship with an unmistakable thud. Rubbing her throbbing head, Hawke muttered a long string of obscenities, mood soured as she tried to regain her calm demeanor. It was unnecessary, she found seconds later, as Anders lowered himself atop her, lips on hers as he settled himself between her parted thighs. She groaned at the sensuous, fiery hardness that pushed against her heated sex, the feeling comfortable and familiar, exquisite and wanton. Hawke thrust her hips to his, relishing in the hiss it elicited from her partner as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, tongues dueling for power. Neither was completely dominant nor subservient; it drove her mad to know that Anders could switch so quickly. His dual personality only fueled her insatiable hunger for his touch, the soft but rough feel of his hands divine. She moaned in impatience when his fingers delved into her mercenary gear, which had replaced her robes while on the ship, and began to tug at the straps. Not one to deny help, she quickly worked to help him remove it in earnest, wanting to feel his skin on hers as soon as possible.

'_Is this happening? Oh Maker..._' her thoughts were so jumbled, so full of desire she didn't realize that Anders was speaking to her.

"No…"

"What is it, Anders?"

"We can't."

"Anders?" His voice sounded so strained, and Hawke brought her gaze to his.

He was shaking. "Hawke…we can't." The spirit's thirst for her blood was beginning to rival a demon's and Anders could feel the tendrils of it creeping, prodding at his psyche to take her. He could almost see Vengeance's invisible hands curling around her neck as she clung to him in the dim lighting of the hold. Steeling himself for her anger, Anders pushed off of her, backing away slowly as he leaned against the nearest wall for support. For her part, Hawke seemed immobile on the floor, her mercenary cuirass undone atop her chest. She didn't seem angry though. Taking his chances, Anders spoke. "Can we…can we just talk for a bit, love?"

"Don't call me that," she replied, voice barely above a whisper as she reattached the straps of her gear before standing and walking towards him. Her voice did not betray her but when their eyes met, her endless spheres did. He could see all her emotions there: hurt, pain, disappointment, anger, shame, uncertainty. It was like she was a little girl all over again. And Hawke merely shook her head, not surprised. She was, however, surprised she'd made it as far as she had. Instead of giving up, this instance seemed to strengthen her resolve and she vowed that little by little she would tear his walls down completely. Until then, talking it would be. "Get dressed. There is whiskey upstairs and I'm sure everyone else has turned in for the evening. Surely Isabella won't mind us drinking her spirits."

At the word, Anders cringed behind her but did as she asked, following her up the steps to the ships deck, his own steps guarded. He knew better than to think she would let this go without more of a fight. That she had dismissed this occurrence relatively easy made him realize how close he was coming to possibly losing her forever. Or it would have had she not continued to be so utterly persistent in pursuing him. He wanted to laugh, for he knew Hawke was persistent; but the sexual influence had to have come from too many a night spent in Isabella's company. He truly believed that the Rivaini had changed Hawke's outlook on various things while in Kirkwall, and now on their journey. He wasn't sure whether he should thank the dark skinned pirate or dislike her even more than he already did. He remained silent as Hawke placed the bottle on the makeshift table Isabella had fashioned out of barrels and crates, courtesy of Kirkwall's Merchant's guild; or stolen goods, rather. Carefully seating himself across from the former Champion, Anders kept his eyes level with the table, not once glancing at her while she took a long, deep swig of whiskey. He knew it burned when it went down one's throat, and he couldn't fathom why she would torture herself so at the expense of forgetting what had just happened. He was full of self loathing but the experience hadn't been unpleasant; he didn't want to forget no matter how much he despised himself.

Hawke exhaled deeply, her breath smelling strongly of the whiskey she'd drank. "So, Anders…talk."

He flushed; embarrassed that she actually believed he just wanted to talk. Sighing internally, he obliged. After all, he'd gotten his sodding self into this mess and now he completely agreed that he deserved to pay for it. "How have you been? We haven't spoken in quite some time."

"Yes well, I thought with the mages plight over there would be nothing left to speak of, you see," she answered, voice dripping with barely hidden venom.

"I…deserved that." When she did not protest to this, he winced when her eyes cut into him, accusatory. "I did not want to talk for the sake of fighting."

"Unfortunately, I don't necessarily care what you wanted to talk for. It's a little too late not to fight, ser mage," she snapped, the alcohol making a blush rise to her cheeks due to sheer anger and frustration. Leaning her elbows on her knees, she looked at him through inebriated eyes, glassy and honest. "I don't understand you, Anders. And perhaps I never will. There is so much about you that I don't know, so much about you that has been a lie. There are so many things that have lead to betrayal. I don't even know if you really care…about anything, other than the mages." He glanced away, the creases of his brow her only sign that he was hurt. "Then…you surprise me. You let me do these things: touch you, feel you, kiss you…love you. Then push me away. What are you afraid of?" He looked ready to answer when she cut him off. "Vengeance aside. I know he will always be a part of you. It was a rhetorical question, and no, I don't want an answer anyway."

"I can't say that I won't give you one, Hawke." His cinnamon brown eyes were tired, his face somber in the lighting of the night. The cool wind that blew past them smelled of seawater, of ocean spray and smoke. Her gaze hinted at denial, for once, and Anders found himself wishing she wouldn't. "I cannot change what I have done. I cannot take back the past. If I could…if I could return you to the Kirkwall you knew, I would. But that is not how change happens. The world needs to see. Kirkwall needed to see Meredith's madness, Orsino's weakness…mages could not remain under Templar cruelty."

"Cullen was not cruel. The Grand Cleric was not cruel, and yet you have murdered a woman who may have been our only hope of a peaceful resolution," she spat with disdain. "Don't try to convince me." She threw him a look so full of animosity that he could've sworn she was ready to set him ablaze. "And don't you dare try to use any spells to pacify me, especially in this state."

Anders would've joked at this as he had back in the city but all he did was allow his shoulders to sag in response. "Yes, Hawke. I am a murderer, a terrorist in many respects. But there is no peaceful solution. You cannot begin to understand. You were never in the Circle, never heard their teachings or watched as the Chantry stood by, allowing this Rite of Tranquility to occur on innocent mages."

"I've heard First Enchanter Irving didn't allow this in Ferelden."

"No, he was not quite the weakling Orsino was, nor did he allow Gregor to push him the way Meredith did in Kirkwall. First Enchanter Irving was…is quite the extraordinary mage." Anders may not have liked the Circle in Ferelden, may have tried to escape seven times, but he knew that the injustices mages faced there paled in comparison to all his time in Kirkwall. The Knight Commander was a monster. She had usurped whatever power the Viscount had shortly after his death, and had seen to it that her command was followed—and her prejudices as well. He didn't know the full story on why Meredith hated mages so much but he imagined whatever had happened in her past must have hit very close to home; this was usually the case for those who hated magic born children. In Thedas, it was viewed as a curse and Anders had never seen his magic as such, or even as a tool to bend the will of a person; nor did he see it as a way to gain power over those who did not possess it. He really did not wish to use it for anything truly terrible but now he had, and there was no turning back.

"Hawke…being in the Circle is like being in a prison. I don't mean this in an offensive way but no one holds your phylactery, no one ever has. But just imagine someone holding such a thing—it is the key to your freedom. Without it, the Templars could not control you, find you, command you. I know why they use it and I understand. However, I did not believe even the Templars were ever above corruption; Meredith has proved it so. I will not deny that there are bad mages in the world but not all of us are, apostates or not. You know this. People in Kirkwall saw it for themselves. You were an apostate the entire time and you never tried to use Blood Magic, never harmed anyone. But Meredith would've had you hanged regardless. You spared me, and for that I am thankful. But don't forget that she truly would've turned on you had you chosen the Templars."

Hawke could not deny his words for she knew they were absolutely true. With Meredith's reputation she surely would've done away with Hawke once she'd helped defeat the Circle Mages. It was a scary thing to know that someone so powerful and influential had hidden her madness under the guise of Justice and Righteousness for as long as she had. It was another testament on the already long list of Hawke's mind that demonstrated just how much power could destroy, how much power could raze anything and anyone into rubble. Scowling, she took another long swig of whiskey, wanting to spit it out shortly after when the burning tore at her throat. Anders seemed to sense this and reached for the bottle, placing it on the floor as he leaned over and pressed a hand to her skin. Hawke shot him a sharply disapproving look, her hand automatically clamping around his wrist, grip tightening as they stared at each other.

"No, I told you. No pacifying," she said, lips in a thin line.

"I'm only trying to heal your throat as it is clear the whiskey has taken its toll on you," Anders responded, eyes suddenly hard and tone scolding. "Hawke, I'm not pacifying you, I promise."

"I don't believe you."

The words stung but he knew he could not dispute them. What right did he have to do so? What right did he have to laugh at such a belief after he had betrayed her trust? And her love. It was what hurt the most when he looked into her eyes. Knowing that he had hurt her, when all he had to do was tell her the truth. But Vengeance had not given him this choice, his will robbed. Sighing, he quickly turned away, removing his hand, her own grip slipping away from his wrist.

"I deserved that, too."

"You deserve every insult, every angry remark, every hit, everything! You deserve all of it, you bastard!" She suddenly shouted. She quickly reached for the bottle before he could push it away. He watched, blankly, as she slapped the glass onto the barrel, shattering it until just the neck remained, sharp like a makeshift knife in her bloodied hands. And then he felt it. The healer in him screamed to instantly cast a healing spell but there was something else, something dark, itching to be released, something he couldn't control. Standing very quickly, he began to back up, his fear rising as she inched closer to him in an attempt to corner him. In her drunken state, angry and threatening, she didn't seem to understand what he was doing. He realized she thought he was cowering, retreating to her. "You deserve to have this fucking blade in your throat, you deceitful, self-righteous, murdering bastard of a mage! How _dare _you try to make it as though I am naïve and don't understand anything when it is _you_ who does not understand! You are no martyr and you will pay for what you have done. You will help me fix Thedas or so help me…the next time you wish for death, Anders, I will give it to you all too willingly!"

Vengeance roared in his ears, his hands beginning to glow with grey mist as the blue cracks began to shine through his skin. He pleaded with the spirit to stay resting but Vengeance would have none of it. Anders looked up to see Hawke pause in her pursuit of pinning him to a wall, her eyes glazed over for a minute before she erupted into a fit of hysterical laughter. He had no idea what was going on when she suddenly brought the broken glass to her arm before pressing it to her skin and dragging a jagged line upwards. Anders eyes widened even as the blue film of the spirit began to cover his conscious vision. He could smell more than see the blood dripping onto the floor, and he fought harder to control the spirit from bursting forth. Everything was beginning to fade but not before he heard Hawke's voice.

"Come spirit, it's time we finish this. You want my blood, than have it. I'll let you have it willingly…as long as you don't hurt Anders any further."

"**You would give it willingly, mage?"**

"Yes. Please…do not hurt him." Hawke watched, trembling, as he began to advance on her, Anders sinister form encased in the blue aura of the spirit.

Anders was screaming inside his own mind, body out of his own control, as he tried to make Vengeance disappear. _'Maker, no! Justice, you cannot do this. You cannot!'_

She watched as he paused a few feet away, gazing off in the distance. **"He is trying to protect you, fool that he is. I will have your blood. If you give it willingly, then perhaps I will be merciful in destroying you to further our cause. Once Anders sees that you were a hindrance, then he will understand why this must be done, girl."**

Again she repeated her wishes. "As long as you do not hurt him, spirit, then my blood is yours." She waited for him to overpower her, anything, but he seemed stuck as though he couldn't move. '_Anders?_' She knew pushing her fellow mage to this limit was wrong but part of her wanted to test him, to ensure that Anders still had some control over the vengeful spirit inside him. '_Or maybe it's more than that,_' she though, idly. Regardless, egging him on was dangerous but Hawke had never been one to be overly cautious, if at all. Offering him a sickened smile, she beckoned him closer. "Come, Spirit, I don't have all night to wait."

"**No, no! I will not be subdued, mage!" **He writhed in his spot as Hawke continued to watch him with interest, the blood on her arm forgotten. The metallic smell, however, did not disappear from either of their senses and Anders glared at her, his eyes not his own. She could tell he was fighting, and very hard if she was any judge. The perspiration on his brow was visible in the dim moonlight, the tenses of his muscles not hidden by his thin clothing—his feather pauldrons were absent. She could see how much of a physical strain he endured to ward off the spirit. And then the blue light disappeared, the grey mist vanishing as Anders stood weakly before her. Yet his weakness did not stop him from a quick recovery—if but for a moment—as he rushed over to seal her wound, closing the skin until it appeared as though she'd never been injured. Her senses were fuzzy due to the alcohol and she let out a rueful chuckle. Anders glared at her harder, his anger simmering. "What the fuck were you thinking, Hawke? Do you want to die, foolishly, by my hands?" Hawke winced when his grip on her arm tightened and their eyes met again, his disapproving and angrier than she'd ever seen. "I've told you before, little girl, that this is no game. I cannot promise to keep you from harm; perhaps I never will again. If you should push me too far Hawke, I will end up killing you."

With that said, Anders practically threw her arm away in disgust as he gathered himself and descended the stairs of the deck, leaving her solitary figure in the silver light. Hawke fought back the tears that wanted to fall; she wouldn't dare let them. Instead, she gritted her teeth at how tragic their lives were, slaves to their fear, their pride, their distrust, their foolishness. The hate she had for Templars didn't even compare to how she felt now, her views paling in comparison to the ludicrous nature of what had transpired between them moments ago. 'Am _I trying to get myself killed?'_ It was a concept she wasn't unfamiliar with. There'd been countless times in the years past where she'd wished for death unlike ever before, the days where she was alone in her estate, hateful and spiteful of the world. There had been days when living seemed far too humdrum, too excruciating without her siblings, without her mother and father. Those days had been spent cooped up all alone in her mansion with the blinds closed, the doors locked, the fire unlit and her head under her pillow to block out signs of life. Other times it'd been spent in the Hanged Man, drowning her sorrows, and her coin, in bottles of whiskey, pints of ale and cheap sexual favors from men and women alike. Most of those times Hawke could barely recall, like they were a dream from a far off time she never wished to return to if given the chance.

Sighing, she made her way over to the ship railing, leaning against it with her arms cross over the wooden beam, her gaze staring off into the deep, murky ocean below. The waves were carrying them calmly at the present, quite a difference from the last time she'd been on a ship to Kirkwall. A soft breeze blew by filled with salty ocean air, and Hawke felt a tear slip down and crash into the water below, unnoticed. It was times like these that she wished for Bethany's presence more than anything.

* * *

Varric could smell the sweet morning air as they stepped off the ship, Hawke looking worse for the wear while half of the crew looked ready for war. The other half looked half asleep still and Varric chose to keep his commentary to himself for once. Hawke looked like hell, her hair mussed and eyes rimmed with dark circles from lack of sleep. Shaking his head, the dwarf made his way over to Merrill, who was anything but sleepy. Her large green eyes were wide awake, her steps light and smile as cheery as ever. She may have be a blood mage but Varric did enjoy that she was so full of life and positively naïve. "Ready to start this journey, are you, Daisy?"

"Oh, Varric! It's so nice to be on land again, and in the forest. I'm not really fond of boats," she said, a jump in her step.

"I see. Hey, Hawke, you ready?"

The mage in question nodded her head though her gait was much slower and her eyes had yet to fully open. She quickly yawned in response. "Varric…you have too much energy for me this morning."

"Well, we are here in Highever. I can't believe we made it. We should probably start heading west towards Amaranthine before it gets too dark. I'd like to see if there are any decent spots to setup camp." Aveline shouldered her shield as she said this while motioning for Donnic to take guard at the back. Carver nodded his agreement and Anders, who had showed up silently, made no protest. "Good, let's get going then. Hawke, stay behind us incase anything happens."

"Yes, yes I know. No jumping into battle," she replied automatically, her eyes dull.

She moved briskly past Anders without sparing a glance his way until she was standing next to Varric in the middle. Anders trailed behind her with Isabella, who was giving him suspicious looks every other minute but did not question him at all. Merill was next to Carver up in the front while Fenris fell back in line with Hawke as usual, on her left as Varric remained on her right. It seemed they were destined to be stuck together until the Hero of Ferelden was found, something that Hawke, secretly, was impatient for with reasons of her own.

The scenery around them anything but lush, the Darkspawn having trickled through and ruined parts of the natural beauty it had once possessed. She supposed Amaranthine would have little to show in the way of improvement even if the Blight was years ago. With all of Thedas in chaos she imagined there would be sprinkles of beauty few and far in between from now on, not to mention the darkspawn themselves. It made her shiver to know that Lothering lay not too far away, her homeland that was no more. The journey would be no easier than it had been back on the Wounded Coast and Hawke hoped that she was prepared for it. _'Finding the Hero of Ferelden may be the key to the restoration of Thedas…and then what of us?'_ She didn't give her mind the chance to wander further as they came to the precipice of a hill that led out of the shoreline. Hawke gasped, steps halted, bile rising to her throat as she grabbed Fenris' wrist to steady herself.

"Oh holy Maker…"

* * *

_Next stop, Amaranthine, I hope. They've landed and I need to go look up what other parts of Ferelden look like from Dragon Age: Origins so I'll be playing that again in the next couple weeks, which is going to be hard since I'm soooo into Dead Space right now. Oh well. Anyway, Isabella/Fenris=CRACK, lol. There shouldn't be too many flashbacks from here now, not from Kirkwall anyway. Well, hope it was liked. R&R, or don't. Thank you to all those who have. I really, truly appreciate it. 10 ain't bad, considering how many other awesome fics are out there. Thanks!_

_~Sadistickunais_


	6. Chapter 6

Note to Disclaimers: I do not and never will own Dragon Age: Origins, Awakening, or Dragon Age 2, etc. All characters are the property of BioWare, etc, and this is NOT for profit.

A/N: Chapter 6, after like…100 years! The pairing remains FemHawke(mage)/Anders. The other big character pairing is Isabela/Fenris because I *heart* Isabela. And I hope, in a couple chapters, depending on where we get through—we should be meeting The Hero of Ferelden soon! That said…you know the drill: you like it, you read. You don't well…yeah, you get it. Constructive Criticism is welcome. Thanks.

'_Thought' & Flashbacks_

"**Justice"**

"Speaking"

Everything else

* * *

**Praevāricātor (Chapter 6)**

Hawke resisted the strong urge to vomit on the spot, the feeling of her breakfast forcing itself up her esophagus until she could not longer hold it back. Seconds later she was lurched over her hands between Varric and Fenris, what felt like the entirety of her insides falling from her lips in a disgusting mass of bile and acid broken food remnants. Hawke felt the tears stinging her eyelids as they always did when she vomited, the feeling unwanted, unwelcomed and burning her throat, which hadn't completely healed from the whiskey damage. She suddenly remembered having not let Anders heal her; she felt like a prize fool now. The smirk that wanted to place her lips did not even begin to form as she wretched again. The scene behind her had been catastrophically gross, the field before them littered with bodies of human, elves and darkspawn alike. Merrill had gasped audibly, burying her face in her hands at the sight of her fallen brethren; Fenris had looked away, his pained look barely noticeable. There were a scattered bunch of Circle mages as well, their bodies barely recognizable though the mark of Tranquility was present on some of their foreheads. At this Anders jaw had tensed and the hatred in his eyes had become obvious, the presence of Vengeance also painfully present. Hawke could merely utter a phrase before she'd turned away and lost her stomach. Aveline, Donnic and Carver all gave each other frowns before heading towards the mass destruction of lives to clean-up or search for clues as to what had transpired. Hawke was vaguely aware that someone was rubbing her back but was grateful to hear Isabela's soothing words as she remained rooted to her spot on the earth, the residual vomit sliding down in a slow path before her eyes.

"Isabela," she croaked in a raspy voice. "What…what have I done to all of Thedas?"

"If I recall, Hawke, this was the Abomination's doing, not yours," Fenris replied, his voice accusatory. "Why do you constantly blame yourself?"

"It's not time to get philosophical, Broody," Varric answered, shaking his head. "We have to get out of here. Whatever happened here isn't fresh; but it isn't old either. I don't really want to be around when more Darkspawn spring up. Thedas may have gone to hell but I sure don't intend to go with it. Cassandra is out there looking for the Champion and they'll stop at nothing to find us. Let's go."

Varric's words rang true and Fenris nodded his agreement, his lips in a thin line as he reached down to help Hawke stand. She pushed his hands away. "Hawke?"

"No…I don't need help, Fenris. Please…I will be fine."

Her response was unsurprising but still bit into the core of his heart. He and Hawke may not ever have that type of future together but he had loved her once; her words still had the power to hurt. Sighing, he stepped away as she shakily stood to her feet, hands reaching for her staff as she did so. "Is that necessary, Hawke?"

"Would you prefer that I don't cast auras of protection? If you'd like to lose your mental control then I will not cast anything on you," she snapped. At the moment Hawke couldn't take much of Fenris' distaste for mages. As it was she already dealt with enough of that because of her own self-hatred. Whirling away from him on unsteady feet Hawke made her way down the hill, almost slipping on the muddy slope in front of her. But she did not slip and continued on her way, never once looking back at Fenris more for fear of shouting rather than annoyance. She couldn't blame him for wanting to protect her. They had almost been lovers at one time, a time Hawke tried to forget on occasion, a time when Hawke had dutifully denied her attraction to Anders for her own mental health. Leandra had never been fond of the Hawke that had replaced her daughter during this time. Fenris may have captured her attention while she remained in denial but a mother always knew. It was shameful, really, to have one's mother call upon such a stubborn child to point out her flaw of choice. It had been utterly embarrassing to come home that night to find Leandra at the fireplace waiting for her, eyes stern and lips in a frown. Hawke could almost remember the slap that had hit her face, the sound her mother's hand made as it connected with her own shimmering skin, wet with rain residue from her flurry of a "date" with the whores at the Blooming Rose.

Hawke shivered at the memory.

"_What are you doing, parading around like some common…lady of the night?"_

_Hawke's hand, which rested on her staff, felt insecure and the words flew out before she could stop them. "Is this what you think of me?" Leandra said nothing, her face blank but Hawke kept on. "Come now, mother, continue. I wouldn't have you stop on account of my feelings. I know you blame me for what happened to Bethany, for Carver's decisions. I know you think it is my fault that your children are no longer here. I wouldn't want you to have to be around the one daughter who failed you and ruined everything!" The resounding smack in the room left Hawke speechless, and Leandra's hand automatically flew to her mouth as she uttered a quick apology. Her mother hadn't laid a hand on her since she and Bethany had singed Carver's hair back in Lothering, when they were no more than children. She couldn't quite comprehend what had just occurred. "Mother I…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"_

"_You've elevated your status and for what? To put on heirs, to act high and mighty, to hide behind the shroud of money as my family once did? Did you do it to sleep around, to sneak in dark corners, to…" her mother's firm expression faltered and Leandra's eyes glistened in the firelight. Hawke felt shame wash over her as the disappointment in her mother's eyes became a shining beacon she couldn't tear her eyes from, not now. "You sell yourself short, my daughter…why do you do this? He is a fine catch, worthy of anyone's affections and probably most loyal and loving. But I know Fenris is not the man you desire. Why do you forget your importance?"_

_Hawke felt paralyzed at her mother's words, Leandra's eyes boring into hers in a way only a mother's would. It was not animosity that drove her to look away from the woman's eyes; Hawke hadn't felt in such a way. "I…mother…it is not as easy as it seems. Father…you and father ran away because you both were willing participants." She eyes her mother with somber eyes. "I cannot force an unwilling participant. What else would you have me do? I am trying…to be happy."_

_Leandra nodded sympathetically. "Then I should tell you this before I retire." Her mother began to slowly head towards her room. "You will never be happy unless you're with the man you truly love. Fenris…will not suffice for long, my daughter. Please…if you should wish to be happy, if even for a short while, then be with the man you love. Life is far too short for us to make decisions we cannot live with in the end." _

"Mother…"

"Did you say something, Hawke?"

Shaking her head she threw Varric a weak smile. "No, sorry. I was just…thinking out loud. You know how that goes, my friend."

"I know exactly how it goes, with you Hawke, and it's never really pretty or uplifting," the dwarf replied.

Scowling, she looked away. "Alright, alright. You've got me there." The mass of flesh around them only seemed to grow bigger as they moved through the land, blood and the stench of decay following them like a bad plague. "Are there any survivors?"

Both Anders and Aveline shook their heads, the former's brow pinched. "No, none. I'm afraid everyone here has been dead at least for a while. There isn't anyone left to heal…to save."

Aveline nodded her agreement. "Whatever happened here ended badly. But what worries me more is the trail of blood leading into the wilds. I don't see any trails leading towards Amaranthine but it does not mean Vigil's keep is unscathed. From here on out we need to be completely well rested and ready for anything, Hawke."

"It's only bound to get uglier," Donnic replied. "I can't foresee this getting any better for us, Champion."

Sighing, she held a hand to her forehead. "Please…someone just put me out of my misery and kill me now." She didn't need to look up to see that both Fenris and Anders had tensed at the statement, missing the intentional sarcasm. Rolling her eyes at their stern expressions Hawke walked past them, snorting. "You two are less fun than anyone I've ever encountered. Lighten up or your sour faces will become starkly permanent."

Varric let out a chuckle at this, following closely behind the former Champion with Bianca held tightly at his side. Merrill was trailing not too far behind them as Carver called out to his sister from ahead of them. The urgency in which he did made Hawke's stomach flip-flop in nervousness. What else could go wrong? Shortly after this thought was completed she was standing next to Carver, Merrill and Varric beside her, as she and her brother observed the corpse of a Darkspawn. Carver's narrowed eyes told her that whatever he had to say would not be good. Pushing the creature to its side, he pointed to its back.

"Look…scorch marks and cleansing marks."

"Templar and Mage battle scars…curious." The equally deadly spells cast on the Darkspawn puzzled her as they both felt and looked as though they'd been cast at the same time. Were mages and Templars working together as opposed to not? Shaking her head, she dropped down to run her fingers across the marks on the dead creature's body. "Bloody sod…what does this mean? I can't believe Templars would be willing to work together just to destroy the Darkspawn. Thedas has gone to shit…surely the Darkspawn threat isn't as prevalent now to coerce mages and Templars back into each other's company."

"Maybe not all of Thedas has followed the example of Kirkwall Circle Mages or Templars," Carver offered quietly. Hawke shot him a disbelieving look to which he shrugged. "It'd be nice if they didn't."

"Yes, indeed. But what's the likelihood of that, brother? All the circles rebelled, not just Kirkwall's."

"Yes, it is true. All the circles rebelled. Have you been told otherwise?" Aveline's asked, curious.

It was Hawke's turn to shrug. "It's possible that they may not have, despite recent reports. But I cannot wait to find out. I need to figure out what happened here, first. I need to…understand why Templars and Mages would work together now, especially after all that's happened."

"I suppose it is rather far-fetched to think they made up already," Isabella said with an air of annoyance. "You people are dragging me into the depths of hell and I still haven't run. Why is that?"

Hawke snorted. "Because you want to get in my pants?"

"Oh, Hawke," Isabella cooed into her friend's ear, "I do always look forward to the opportunity."

Fenris bristled, though it was only noticed by Anders who spent time observing him for fear of being killed on the spot. It didn't make Anders feel any better that the reason Fenris bristled at Isabella's comments was because the elf fancied Hawke. Unbeknownst to the renegade mage was the real truth. Sighing, he turned back towards Aveline who was motioning that they enter the Wilds, the obstacle between Amaranthine and much more. He could've happily done without going in there and, perhaps, running into the Witch of the Wilds, again. It was unsettling enough to lay eyes on her when Merrill had been recruited. It seemed unnecessary to suddenly be seeking her out on purpose now. But Hawke paid no attention to the discomfort of the rest of her party; they needed to get to Amaranthine, to Vigil's keep.

"How many days time would you say it is from here to Vigil's Keep, Aveline?"

The ginger-haired woman shot a thoughtful look towards the forest. "If we stop to rest only a couple times…I'd say about seven days time. We didn't exactly take the most direct route to reach Ferelden, and our journey by ship had set us back quite some time. We should proceed with cautious haste, however, as time is important but so is our safety."

"Wise decision, Captain," Donnic replied, to which Aveline blushed to the roots of her hair. It seemed it still unnerved her to be referred to as Captain by her lover.

Hawke rolled her eyes in laughter. Surely they would be subject to more of these embarrassing moments between Aveline and Donnic but she would be able to use them later down the line, especially with the way Anders and Fenris created a daunting black cloud of tension around them. She wasn't sure she could last another day with the two childish men, wondering if perishing at the hands of Knight Commander Meredith had been a better option. Aggravated that such a thought was even possible Hawke walked briskly passed them, promptly ignoring the injured puppy-dog looks both men sent her way. She was no fool to believe that Anders was over last night, no matter how much he pretended like nothing had occurred; she was no fool to Fenris' withering looks either, when she did choose to engage the mage in any type of conversation, even if it was strictly business. However, her sneaking suspicion that something else was going on with the warrior elf was only further confirmed when she noticed Isabella staring at him for far too long. Knowing the pirate captain, she figured their relationship may have warped into something beyond a regular friendship, but that's where it stopped. Not a second went by where Hawke thought that the dark-skinned woman might be jealous in regards to Fenris—Isabella did not do intimate, involved relationships.

'_Yes, another thing to add to my list of irritations and problems,'_ Hawke mused as she let out another sigh, overstepping a raised branch in her path. Their walk through Korcari Wilds was anything but pleasant so far, the stench of death peeking through the once fresh air and beautiful surroundings. She knew what lay to the west too, the haunting thought slowly prodding her brain with persistent tendrils of memories she wished would disappear. Lothering was close behind them, a constant reminder that she had returned to a wasteland she had once called her home. This was accompanied by an overpowering, overbearing sense of dread that had followed her shortly after they had entered the Wilds. Whether this strictly revolved around her return to Ferelden, or centered around their sure-to-be impending run in with the Witch of the Wilds, was something Hawke could only dwell upon for moments at a time. As it was, she couldn't dwell on anything much longer than a few minutes at a time because of Anders and Fenris' constant waves of tension that seemed to be swallowing the entire party. If everyone wasn't careful enough she might actual blast them all with a spell just to make them stop having such reacting emotions. '_Blood magic at its best, I say,_' she mused bitterly.

It had only been a few hours since their trek began and Hawke wanted nothing more than to drive her head into the nearest tree. Aveline and Donnic continued to walk ahead of her as if protecting a child—she hated this—and did not allow her to venture too far ahead lest she get slain by a surprise of attack of sorts. Behind her Carver was lingering in the back with Merrill who had fallen relatively silent once in the Wilds. Hawke chalked this up to Merrill's unfamiliarity with the lands but eventually decided that the Blood Mage was far too busy observing her surroundings in blatant awe. Carver, at least, remained silent and neutral to her actions. Fenris was also behind her with Isabela flanking his left side, her chatter the only constant as Varric hummed to Bianca, walking comfortably to Hawke's right. Anders remained in his solitary position in front of her, and behind her fellow warriors, like a condemned mage being taken to his death. The aura of depression he emitted was to be reckoned with the aura of hostility Fenris continued to emit from behind her as well. In happier days, Hawke might have joked with them but all she could think to do was take a deep breath lest she end up wanting to kill both of them with her own hands.

The general atmosphere of the Korcari Wilds itself was pleasant enough if not a bit ominous, almost like tasting the ever present danger that lurked just below the surface façade of pretty trees and lush forest. It was one of the only places not destroyed, completely, by the Blight in Ferelden. '_Lothering didn't quite manage to escape that…_' Hawke paused for a moment as they came to a cliff, which opened up to a clearing with a few crumbling buildings and various outlines of abandoned camp sites—or destroyed ones. While corpses were not as prevalent in the opening before them, there were a few scattered here and there. Hawke's heart felt heavy as she imagined how bad Lothering must look now, wondering, briefly, if she should turn back, if but for closure. She scanned the area with little effort since no one else made moves to do so other than Aveline and Donnic.

"Suggestions?" She asked in a tired voice.

Aveline looked thoughtful. "If we don't make it through the clearing by nightfall, perhaps we should setup camp here. I anticipate, according to Anders directions, we are still close to about 7 days out from Amaranthine without proper transportation. Since we need to travel by foot, we will at our best with proper rest and nourishment."

"What? It's not my fault we had to take a detour around the coasts in the Amaranthine Ocean, Captain!" Isabela argued indignantly.

"Great," Hawke muttered. It was true though, nonetheless, that they had been unable to dock straight in the coastlands near Highever, for whatever reason. In fact, they had ended up having to travel around the coastal peninsula of Ferelden until they'd reached the coast near the Korcari Wilds, close to Ostagar, close to Lothering. "So, who wants to go hunting for food? I'm afraid even we did not plan for such a long journey."

Fenris immediately stepped forward. "I will go, Hawke. I am a hunter of sorts."

"I'll go as well. I may not be a warrior or a hunter, but I have my ways," Isabela winked coyly at Hawke as she brandished her daggers. "Be back before you know it, Sweet thing."

With that, both the elf and the pirate disappeared into another patch of trees and brush. Merrill stepped forward, almost knocking Hawke over in her eagerness to help. "Hawke, I can be of help too. The forest speaks to me. Some of the abandoned camp sites are close to trees with vines. If we choose the right spot I can call upon them for protection."

"That's excellent, Merrill," Hawke replied, a smile lighting her tired face. "Carver, take Merrill and start working on that. Aveline, you and Donnic should go as well to scope out for possible lingering Darkspawn. Anders, Varric and I…will search for survivors." Once everyone had their task they began. Hawke was walking in the opposite direction of Aveline and Donnic when Anders let out a heavy sigh. "What is it?"

"There are no Darkspawn here, Hawke."

She blinked, "How do you know?"

"I already told you I cannot say why…only that…I would know if they were near." Anders frowned. "Trust me, there are no darkspawn here. The clearing is safe…from them at least."

"You know…you're no longer a Grey Warden. Why can't you tell me how you know these things?" Hawke's eyes were narrowed as Varric pretended not to exist, venturing further ahead of them.

It was Anders turn to narrow his cinnamon brown eyes at her, jaw stiff. "When one becomes a Grey Warden, one is a Grey Warden, for life. I cannot undo what I have done." Turning away, he bowed his head. "I cannot undo who I am and what I have become anymore than you can undo being a mage, Hawke."

Rolling her eyes—though the deeper meaning was not lost on her by any means—Hawke resumed her trek towards where Varric was examining more bodies. She was sure, without being anywhere near them, that they were corpses. She highly doubted that they'd be finding any survivors alive. At the very least she figured she could give them a proper burial with the help of Merrill and Fenris. Anders remained behind her, his face solemn and resolute as they examined the body Varric had pinpointed. The Dwarven rogue seemed engrossed in the remains, a little more than she'd ever seen. Curiosity would've gotten the best of her but when she took a closer look she realized why he was so interested in the body. It was a shorter, bulkier body unlike any human or elven bodies she had seen strewn across the field—it was distinctly Dwarven. '_But why would Dwarves be on the surface? They usually fight Darkspawn in the Deep Roads, even though they aided with the Blight. Surely they would've returned to their homes by now.'_ Sighing, she placed a hand on Varric's shoulder.

"It would seem that we really have set all of Thedas on fire…" she muttered forlornly.

"And even my Dwarven brethren were not immune to the chaos," he replied, his tone even. "It's not your fault, Hawke."

Anders inhaled sharply. "Varric."

"I know Blondie, I know." Varric's quiet response caused Hawke to arch a brow in wonder but she stayed silent. "We should probably continue looking around. I doubt there are survivors but we could at least bury the poor sods."

"Agreed. Anders, you take the left, I'll take the right with Varric." Her order was firm and unchangeable. Without another word Hawke made her way towards the opposite direction of the Renegade mage, glad for a reprieve. Varric walked calmly by her side, quiet but she was glad for the company if nothing else. But because of her general sarcastic and witty nature Hawke couldn't control herself from interrogating her friend. "Varric…what was all that about with Anders? You do realize this is my fault after all. I did allow Anders to live…and I sided with the mages."

Varric laughed. "You are a mage, my friend. You know me, I'm not one for long-winded conversations that don't embellish, or aren't stories of adventure. It was quite just that, telling the seeker your story."

Hawke raised a brow at this. "How did you manage to get around my disappearance?"

He shrugged. "I told her I didn't know where you and Anders were. It wasn't a lie—only our good Captain had any idea. It's not coincidence that this happened, I can tell you, and that the Hero of Ferelden disappeared. Besides, it's so much fun telling your story even though Cassandra could see through my lies. Damned Seeker, she is smart."

It was the female mage's turn to laugh at this. "You sound so disappointed. Better she saw through your pack of wild tales than having to beat it out of you." He nodded, and she sighed. "This is a miserable existence, Varric. How do you suffer it with such ease?" When he simply smiled she had to sigh, again. "How you and Isabela remain so light-hearted about such things is still beyond me, even after all these years."

He chuckled. "I think we learned it from you, Hawke."

"Well, shit…what was I thinking having such a bad influence on a lewd pirate and silver-tongued rogue?" Both of them smiled a little too somberly as they paused at another pile of mixed corpses—elves, dwarves, human and darkspawn alike. It made for a somewhat gruesome picture as they scouted the area for possible burial places. "I think we're going to have a long afternoon ahead of us. I do hope Isabela and Fenris were able to find us some good game. Hopefully all the animals haven't been scared off by the fighting, or dead from disease."

Some hours later found Hawke and her companions sitting lazily around a campfire, a small fire burning, and enjoying the last remains of what Fenris and Isabela had managed to catch. Across from her Aveline and Donnic were flirting like young lovers and it made her smile that Aveline was able to do such a thing at all anymore. Isabela was carefully draped across her throw, drinking ale from a canvas canteen as she tried to adjust to the climate change. The pirate had rid herself of the wool clothed cuirass once they'd departed Kirkwall's Wounded Coast and she was now decked out in her usual pirate bodice, though it had been replaced with an assortment of blackened spots and green grass stains. All in all, the pirate looked a mess but somehow Hawke was sure the dark-skinned woman liked it that way. Rolling her eyes, Hawke turned her gaze to where Merrill was resting peacefully against a bed of vines she's managed to call from the earth; Carver sat awkwardly next to her, his eyes focused on something, or someone. She assumed her brother was scouting like a good Templar, watching Anders most likely. Fenris was nowhere in sight, having disappeared shortly after returning with dinner, saying he was going to go keep watch incase any darkspawn showed up, to which Anders had promptly shook his head. Hawke knew why the mage was doing this but said nothing, instead choosing to let Fenris do what he must. _'Perhaps we just wanted some alone time; I can't be the judge of that,' _she mused. Varric was too busy humming lowly to Bianca as if he were trying to soothe her to sleep with a lullaby unlike any other; Hawke found this beautiful as she watched with interest. But the sweet yet melancholy tune wove its way around her stress addled mind, and soon she wanted to fall asleep too, somewhere in solitude so she could continue on her reckless path of thinking fruitless thoughts.

Sighing, she quickly stood up and bade everyone goodnight, not really finding the campfire that peaceful, or the company that comforting anymore. She had just settled down into her throw when there were footsteps to her right, soft but quick as lightening. Cursing her luck, she rolled over to come face to face with her follower.

"My dear Hawke, you didn't think you could slip off that easily now, did you?"

The mage shook her head. "Isabela, what do you want?"

"I think the question begs what do you want, sweet thing," the pirate offered, seating herself next to the mage who remained inside her covers. "Hawke, it's not like you to disappear and sleep so early, even if you look like you need a decade's worth."

"Thanks Isabela, I wasn't aware I looked so shabby," she retorted hotly.

Her dark-skinned friend laughed. "Oh, shabby yes, but also quite delicious. Have you and Anders knocked boots recently?"

"A sore spot, if you must know and no…we have not," Hawke answered somberly as she let out a heavy sigh. "Isabela…why did you stay with me?"

"Friendship isn't enough for you, is it girl?" The siren of the seas raised an eyebrow, her mouth turned upwards in a smirk. Hawke blanched. "That's not what you meant, I'm guessing. Hawke, look…you saved me. I owed you my service and talents, at the very least. But…it's more than that." The mage in question sat up, bringing her knees to her chest as she listened. "Shit…Isabela, what are you babbling about? The truth is, Hawke, I'm here to look after you. This isn't just because of a debt, either."

"I need more baby sitting, even now?"

"Come on, Hawke, you know that's not what I meant this time. I'm here because we're friends, and because you're important to everyone, and to me."

Hawke chuckled. "Isabela, after all these years, you still want to bed me?"

Letting out a heartfelt laugh herself, the pirate nodded. "Can't fool you, can I?" Both of them enjoyed a good laugh before Isabela smiled. "It's more than that Hawke. If I didn't want to be here…you know I wouldn't." She made to leave when Hawke's eyelids drooped, realizing the mage was probably exhausted. "You know Hawke; I don't believe I ever thanked you…for saving my life that day…so thanks, Sweet Thing."

Hawke watched as her friend sauntered away, bodice moving equally with the sway of the pirate's hips; she chuckled again. _'Trust Isabela to check up on me like a mother, or sister,'_ thought the Champion, a sudden rueful air settling on her as she remembered Leandra and Bethany. They had moved much farther away from Lothering now and she still wondered if she should return, still for the sake of closure. It was almost as if her old home was calling to her, beckoning for her to come back if only for a few moments, to pay respect to all she had lost there as she had in Kirkwall. And then the bitter thoughts sunk in of how Lothering could not be saved in comparison to all of Ferelden. It was times like this that she hated the Blight, the king, Teryn Loghain the Betrayer and everyone else who had failed to aid Ferelden in its time of great need. It wasn't as if Orlais wouldn't be next on the list. After all, Darkspawn didn't exactly discriminate from any of them, Orlesian or Ferelden. She did recall, at the moment, Anders mentioning something about the more superior ranked Darkspawn who happened to speak, something rarely ever witnessed during the Hero's initial travels to slay the Archdemon. Back then, she knew Anders to be truthful and honest, a helpful healing mage who cared for the sick and unfortunate who could not afford a place better than Darktown. Her mind clouded into darkened doubt at the thought of him and his many lies that followed, of the Chantry's destruction aided by her own efforts that had been gained through falsified tales. And she wept internally at the loss of lives, of the countless opportunities she had to right the wrongs of Kirkwall as its Champion; she wept at how many lives she'd saved, how many wrongs she righted, only to fall behind again and again. Her battle was never ending and she was now at the center of a grave war that she could not hope to survive, ideals and change aside. They would come but she would never experience them because to see a cause through, one must usually die and sacrifice in order to make it happen.

Tears threatened her already burning eyelids, aching to be set free from their ducts as she tried, in vain, to push the horrid thoughts from the front of her mind back into the recesses where they belonged. These thoughts had spent numerous days lurking right beneath the surface of her conscious, poking, prodding and smacking against the walls of her subconscious to break free of their restraints. She wasn't sure how much longer she would be able to hold out. During these types of episodes, as her mother had often called them, she would usually be soothed by a mother's touch, and it would drive away the fear she fell into in such a state. After Leandra had passed Hawke often sought soothing touches and words through Anders, and on occasion, Isabela who acted as her stand-in sister figure. Aveline tended to be more of her temporary mother figure but the captain of the guard also tended to be extremely busy with work and bringing criminals to justice. It was hard now, their group so small, for her to seek any type of comfort. As of the late, Isabela had been increasingly vague into where she would wander off to, not that they'd been together again for a long time. It had only been a possible time frame of several weeks that they'd been reunited. But nevertheless, the pirate would disappear for long stretches of time—about the same time as Fenris, Hawke noted—and the mage couldn't help but feel like she was losing a person she had come to consider close family. It set a small ache aflame in her heart that she would've very much liked to have squashed the moment it appeared.

Yet it wasn't nearly as unsettling as the current experienced between her and Anders those evenings before they'd arrived in Ferelden, the electricity still an unexplainable occurrence that was brewing semi-violently in her brain, wherever she'd managed to shove it, for now. This issue with Anders was far more pressing, in her mind, than what was transpiring between the mage-hating Elven warrior and their resident Siren. It was enough to make Hawke curl over in slight irritation; what was she supposed to do now? Much needed sleep tugged at her eyes and yet she could find no reason to actually sleep at that moment, wanting nothing more than to pack up and march straight to Amaranthine. Her impatience to get to the bottom of the mess before her was agitating as it only seemed to harass her cool composure into a fiery one. Her exterior visage of confidence was beginning to falter with each passing day, and she was unsure if she could keep it up for too much longer. '_I need to keep it up, at least until all this is solved…then I…can fall apart,_' she thought bitterly as she felt a sudden ache in her back. The spirit healing touch in her hands would've sufficed for this, but even her small healing spell could not rid her of the true reason for her aches and pains. It was not mere physical pains or beatings that caused this. The mental stability she held was eroding slowly. She wasn't sure if being possessed by a spirit was all that bad anymore. '_At the very least, Anders does not want much for food, water and earthly desires or necessities thanks to that blasted spirit.'_ She faltered at this thought as it brought back memories of when he had said he was a man, that he still retained such feelings and desires. But she couldn't quite recall the last time he had eaten anything let alone slept. As it was, she could see it in his face and body, how he was wasting away, sustained merely by the spirit's power and drive to complete their task.

Such a concept being a possibility was frightening enough for her, and she couldn't imagine herself doing the same as him. And yet, to what lengths would she go, she thought, to separate him from the vengeful spirit lurking beneath his kind façade? Was it even really there anymore? Hawke knew that despite his endless kindness and caring for the less fortunate, Anders could not control the brooding spirit that lay within the confines of his human body. Being possessed as he was would soon destroy him in every way possible, mind, body and soul. Sighing, the former Champion of Kirkwall could only ponder her misery as she hoped that when all was said and done that she'd have some remaining hope and heart left to finish living whatever little bit of life she was granted. _'If you survive, you foolish mage…IF you survive. Remember, you're not supposed to live past the final battle.' _Her mind refused to accept that she would die for this cause, but most people who changed the world rarely survived their cause, especially one such as dire as the Mages Plight. So many had already lost their lives; what was hers added to the endless depths of ravaged lives? _'Only a few more days to Amaranthine…Maker…let me make it through this, for Bethany and Mother, if nothing and no one else.'_ She truly hoped that she would be there when the battle was over, for if not, she didn't have much left to live for anymore.

* * *

Amaranthine had, clearly, been razed to the ground. Anders' look of utter horror and fear pretty much summed up everyone's feelings as they gazed upon the ruined structure of Vigil's Keep. Quietly, Anders knelt down next to the rubble that had once been the staircase leading up to Vigil's Keep, one of the last known Grey Warden bases in Ferelden. Hawke tried to keep a straight face but it was becoming harder and harder to do so. As it was, Merrill looked about ready to cry while she stood there hugging her thin elven frame as if protecting it from intruding forces. Fenris looked disturbed as he looked at the ravaged bodies of mages, darkspawn, Grey Warden and village people's alike. There were hardly any Templars about but Carver had managed to find the few remaining, their corpses scarred and dismembered, only recognizable by their leftover armor. Isabela was doing her best not get anymore bloodstains on her already dirtied bodice and body as she let out a low whistle of surprise and sorrow at the sight. Varric was holding Bianca and shaking his head profusely. Aveline and Donnic were both aghast, Aveline glancing around in disbelief.

"Hawke…I could've sworn that this had not yet reached Amaranthine…"

"We were too late…to save anyone," Anders whispered quietly. "How many must have perished…and the Grey Wardens are all gone. We…have no home again. Surely the Hero would've come here…she would've come to rally them. But…Velanna and Nathaniel would have to have come here if she called for them. I was presumed dead. She doesn't know I'm alive."

"What are you talking about?" Hawke asked, curious. "Presumed dead? You never mentioned any of this."

Anders cringed at her scolding. "I…I was presumed dead before I came to Kirkwall to escape the Grey Wardens. I had been invited to teach at the Circle in Ferelden but I refused…and vanished. Everyone assumed I was dead, and I'm pretty sure my friend did not seek other answers otherwise…or at least I can't think she did. The others who were with us…Velanna, an Elf whose sister disappeared with the Architect…and Nathaniel Howe, son of the traitorous Arl Howe...they were also Grey Wardens questing with us when we set out to kill the Broodmother."

Again, Hawke stared. "I don't understand…Nathaniel Howe…the man we ran into in the Deep Roads?"

Anders looked up, startled. "You ran into Nathaniel? When?"

"Years ago, in the Deep Roads. I suppose I failed to mention it. You were in the Clinic when I went on that mission with Fenris, Merrill, and Isabela," Hawke supplied with slight embarrassment. "I'm sorry…had I known…"

"It doesn't matter. If Nathaniel is alive then he, and I suppose Velanna, would also be searching for the Hero. Maybe that's what Stroud was doing in Darktown that time…" Anders' voice trailed off as he suddenly became deeply absorbed in his thoughts, his eyebrows pinched in concentration. "Then the other Wardens must know about the Hero…since she is the current Grey Warden Commander. When the previous Commander died, she did take up the post since King Alistair well…became King. It makes sense that they too would be searching for her, especially since she's simply…disappeared. The Commander…she was not one to never say a thing when she left on missions or quests."

"I'm assuming we should probably continue exploring the keep?"

"Or what's left of it," Isabela supplied, her eyes taking it all in again. "Hawke, not to be a downer or anything, sweet thing, but what exactly are we going to do here now? There isn't much left."

"She's right," Anders agreed readily. "We should probably bypass Amaranthine now. It really doesn't look like there is anyone else alive here."

"Look there, more Mage spell residue and Templar cleansing spells. These are slightly fresher than the others." Fenris gestured to the surroundings corpses that littered the vast ground before their eyes.

It was true. Hawke could make out the streaks of various spells ranging from scorch marks from one of her own spells, Tempest. The cleansing aura of the Templars was splayed across mages and Darkspawn alike, which led her to believe that they may have came together briefly while they were attacked by Darkspawn but then, once again, turned on each other once that particular threat had waned or been dealt with—a temporary, momentary truce. So many innocent people—mage, templar, townspeople, Ferelden, etc—were being slaughtered under the guise of Justice and preservation, it irked her that they would return to killing each other right after being attacked by Darkspawn. Now that the mages had set the world on fire, literally, she figured it'd be hard to recruit anyone to help. Already many a mage hated her, even while many also held her name as a rallying cry for their cause. If the Grey Warden Commander was missing than, she surmised, it could only mean that she too knew what was going to happen. If the Grey Warden Commander was as great as the tales said, then Hawke imagined the Hero was out there trying to fix everything. It was, in her mind, highly unlikely that she had been kidnapped or captured. Hawke couldn't imagine the Hero being killed by anyone—the woman had defeated the Archdemon. Being killed by someone less than worthy seemed out of the question. Her issue with Anders not withstanding, she was pretty sure he would readily agree with this.

Shrugging though no one noticed, Hawke looked behind them. "I suppose we should try to see what Dalish Elves may be left in the area. Any objections to the Brecillian Forest as our next destination? Or back tracking not quite that far, perhaps to Denerim? Somehow, I'm not sure what going back as far as Ostagar and the Wilds will offer. I don't know about all of you but…" she sighed as she looked away. "I'd rather not run into the Witch of the Wilds again."

When no one in the party made any forthright decisions, they decided to stay the night at the abandoned keep to resupply and restock what they could scrounge up, then set off for the forest in the early morning. The Brecillian Forest was at least 4 to 5 days time, current threats that may be lurking about not factoring in quite yet. She figured Denerim would be best saved as one of their last destinations, even if it was out of the way. There was no need, as she saw it, to trek and muck up a place that had its king dealing with everything. Hawke could remember having wanted to wander to the Brecilian forest as a child, but there had been numerous rumors about a curse that had taken many a life there—werewolves and what not. Until that curse had been rid of, her mother and father had refused to let them wander into the forest. This didn't factor into account that she had heard many a tale told of the Elves that wandered the forest as well, mostly Dalish elves like Merrill. She knew they moved about time to time, never staying in one place too long; but she wasn't sure if this curse had anything to do with the Dalish. And in thinking about the Dalish, she highly doubted they were still in the forest now. Since they moved around to keep safe, she assumed they would be long gone from this particular area even if the Blight had ended. Not that much time had transpired, especially since her meeting with King Alistair, at least not in the bigger scheme of things. Yet she hoped she might find something, anything that might provide clues to help them in their quest to track down the missing Hero. Any clues they found would help, or so she hoped, to gain better insight into the disappearance of the Hero from her post in Amaranthine and Ferelden.

With that thought still in mind, and the rest of her party setting up camp for the night, the mage decided to make her way to the inner workings of the keep, alone time and clue hunting on her list. Hawke's exploration of the keep was not what one would call pleasant. She didn't know much about the Grey Wardens other than the well-known fact that they were key in helping defeat the Blight, and most of Ferelden was obligated to fight for them. Anders had mentioned that there were treaties signed centuries ago, that these papers were crucial to this, and the Hero had ensured that all aid was recruited to fight the Blight. But Lothering had, nonetheless, been destroyed and her first home had been lost. Hawke's eyes felt a little teary eyed at this thought as she wandered the crumbling walls of Vigil's Keep, taking note of scenes where it seemed the occupants had fled in a rush. In the rooms she was currently stood there was a table of food that looked decomposed, barely recognizable. This was also nest to a decomposing body that seemed fresher than she liked to admit. But it was relatively quiet around and she felt it led to plenty of thinking time, the silence only slightly comforting. Her mind was far from Kirkwall now, her pondering melding between their journey throughout Ferelden and wherever may follow, if she was allowed to continue living once this whole mess was resolved. She couldn't say she was okay with any of it, because in truth she was far from such an emotion. In reality Hawke wanted to beat something so badly, like a bandit or maybe one of Kirkwall's notorious Coterie members; she'd love to pound one of their faces in at the present.

Letting her should fall a bit, she stopped for a moment in one of the keeps many rooms, leaning against the filthy bricks as she tried to imagine how beautiful the Grey Warden Post must have been before it was mauled by Darkspawn and Class warfare. She tried to picture it but nothing came to her and Hawke felt an ache in her heart. Was she beyond having time to imagine pretty, magnificent things? Hawke knew she'd done many questionable things in the past 7 years and before, not really sure how she was able to live with herself sometimes. Everything she'd done was to make a living, to pay off a debt that her uncle had incurred with his foolishness. Everything she'd done was out of concern for her family's well-being. She had only wanted to provide a better life for Leandra, see that her mother was happy despite Bethany's death and Carver's idiocy. _'How could I? I failed…so many times. Mother is not here. And Carver hates me. I've chosen a fool's war and I am to die in the end. Why do I continue to try? What is there left for me other than impending death? I will never be happy…' _

"Surana was a lot like you in that respect, Hawke."

The dejected mage let out a bitter chuckle. "Really?"

Anders nodded from behind her, his heart torn at seeing her feeling such guilt over his doing. He wanted to comfort her but she'd been rather prickly as of the late, which he understood, though it didn't mean it hurt any less. He didn't dare approach her, however, in her current state. Instead he found himself gracing her stiff back with a weak smile as he recalled his many waking hours spent with the Hero by the campfire, the only other companion to their weary commander. Sometimes he would catch the elf staring into the fire with such sadness that he had began to wonder what caused it. He had sneaking suspicions about the reason but he didn't dare ask her; Surana had a very professional, commanding air about her more often than not. Shaking his head of the Warden Commander, he returned his attention to Hawke who was now running her fingers along an ornate but very broken chest. He had seen many such chests with elaborately beautiful designs throughout his travels, and even in the Circle Tower. Smiling at the memory, again, he brought his attention back to his fellow apostate mage as she glanced around the keep. Somewhere between her departure from their camp into the walls of the Keep, she had changed back into her mercenary gear, the enchantments and imbued jewels still visible. It made sense, he told himself, to return to lighter, less restricting attire during their travels. Such a thought made him begin observing her again only for his cinnamon pair to be pierced by her narrowed pair.

"Care to give me more of an explanation? Or are you going to lie to me again?"

Anders internally winced at her statement though he knew he deserved it. Nevertheless, it didn't bode well when she was angry with him. Just because she had let him live, and continually reinforced that she loved him, didn't mean that she liked him all the time, especially lately. The last time he had checked they had been involved in quite a few scary, concerning situations—none to be taken lightly, either. Yet he agreed. "Surana was very…hard on herself though such a thing was completely unnecessary. She was an excellent leader. She always looked out for the rest of the party. When we became Wardens she guided us through what life is like for a Warden. You see things when you…join. I used to think it was crazy, like when you go through your Harrowing. Not all of us are so lucky. She told me about her friends from the Circle sometimes, even though we were both there at the same time. She's been through a great deal, and I'm sure, wherever she is, it is no different. She gave up her happiness to remain the Warden Commander. I know you've heard the stories. Who hasn't? Surana, mistress to the King of Ferelden, Hero of the Blight and on top of all that, she was an Elven Mage, the slave race and a disgusting bloodline. But because of her mages in the Circle were saved. She was quite impressive."

Hawke regarded him carefully, a tad of jealousy welling up inside her as she watched his smile grow fond at the memories of the Hero. Feeling like a petulant child, Hawke said the first thing that came to mind. "Did you have her too, like the others, in Ferelden?"

Her statement cut through his reminiscing like knife, his jaw becoming rigged at her words. Hawke's eyes were equally hard, glowering and glaring into his as he realized the ramifications if he should say the wrong thing. Choosing the more diplomatic road, he shrugged. "You already know she was the King's mistress, that I used to frequent the Ferelden brothel, the Pearl. Isabela has told you as much. If you are implying that I had inappropriate relations with the Warden Commander, then I must decline to answer."

"None of that tells me whether you slept with your Commander."

"I don't see the relevance. I have a colorful past Hawke; don't we all? What I did before we met doesn't factor into the now," he replied firmly. _'At least now it doesn't, not when I'm host to a once-kind spirit, and have no remnants of my former self left to give you.'_

She snorted but said nothing further, pretending to be uninterested though her ears had turned a nice shade of red in anger, or embarrassment. Anders couldn't tell, really. And he didn't really want to push her any further because despite her hardened exterior, Hawke was still a woman above all else; a woman who felt hurt and jealousy, anger and betrayal. He couldn't bring himself to put her through any further suffering. Though the smile that graced his lips was one of genuine delight that the fire in her eyes had returned, he wasn't so sure that she was all together. 'She must know we can see through her by now,' he thought morosely as he continued to observe her, fascinated at how she could act as though nothing happened even though her emotions were coming off her in such strong waves, that he magic aura barely did anything to conceal it. As if reading his mind, Hawke let out a depressed chuckle.

"I know you can sense my emotions, Anders. I have no doubt that it is because of the magic you posses, the connection to the fade we both were cursed with, too." Her blood stained lips were thin though there was a slightly playful glint in her eyes as she said this to him. "I doubt that I could hide much from you, especially now. I don't really wish to do so. It makes me feel like I have to hate you…even when I love you from afar."

He paused at this, recalling their strained relationship the 3 years before they'd confessed their love to each other in Kirkwall. When life had been a fairytale, deteriorating slowly through their own awareness. He wanted to take her in his arms at that point but it was as if thorns came out as she rounded on him again, arms crossed against her bosom and stance guarded. He replied in kind, his body stiff and arms hanging at his sides with his hands fisted. Every day became a struggle to keep Vengeance calmed but the spirit hungered, unendingly, for Hawke's blood and Anders found himself constantly fighting for control around the dangerously beautiful mage. They were back where they'd started and Anders cursed all of Thedas for it. For her part, Hawke seemed less interested in this and more amused by the fact that Anders had been the only one to follow her, especially when prior to now he'd done everything to avoid her. Yet she didn't bother to ask his reasoning as she was sure she'd rather not hear it. Gesturing to the opposing doorway, she shot him a somewhat daring facial expression, challenging him.

Her aura was glowing, and not just from the Arcane spells spilling off of her in overbearing waves. The Spirit healing abilities she also possessed continued to generate renewing and rejuvenating energy to help sustain the party's already depleted supply of energy. When she felt her own supply dropping she would often ingest flasks of lyrium in order to replenish this but as there was no current danger, it was a constant small hit to her reserves. Anders energy was the same though he specialized in healing and more entropic and elemental prowess than she ever hoped for in her lifetime. As it was, she had added almost every kind of mage to her party, even a Blood Mage, though Merrill was less of a sinister malefic arum that others she'd encountered and heard about in the past. If it was possible, Hawke viewed her party as a mini-army due to all their talents: Isabela was a master duelist and subterfuge specialist; Varric was a master at coercion and archery, something she couldn't comprehend; Fenris and Aveline were both excellent and skilled warriors, specializing in the field of Defense and Offense. Her brother was a templar, able to cast cleansing spells and auras and take down a mage with his own lyrium infused magic taught by the Knight Commander. The difference between them though was that she knew she was playing with an extremely unstable, hostile force when it came to her lover but she wouldn't dare back down lest Vengeance saw her weakness and exploited it. The damned spirit already used her love for Anders as a weapon, playing on it in a way that Hawke despised.

"Care to go first, Ser mage? After all, the Keep was your home once, was it not? Former Warden or not, I think it's your obligation to see what remains of your family's home."

Cocking his head to the side, Anders met her challenge, falling in step only a few feet ahead of her as she followed suit through the wooden door that hung off its hinges with age. She didn't really know where they were headed, or what they would encounter, what they would fine, but she was determined to see what life may have been like in Vigil's Keep. She wanted to know Anders before he was host to a Spirit. Amaranthine may be the only place left where she could receive such insight.

* * *

_Next stop, well…that's kind of undecided right now. I didn't want them to spend an ENORMOUS amount of time at Vigil's Keep/Amaranthine but giving Anders time to reminisce a bit, and Hawke to be semi-included was nice. I've been replaying DA:O from the beginning but now I'm all into this series on AMC, The Walking Dead—OMFG, SO GOOD! Plus Halloween is coming up…yeah, DEF. be prepared. Well, hope it was liked enough, especially after ALL this time. R&R, or don't. My deepest thanks to those who still read and review. My deepest apologies to those who no longer do because of my procrastination and other reasons. Regardless, I really, truly appreciate it. Thank you! I *heart* you all!_

_~Sadistickunais_


	7. Chapter 7

Note to Disclaimers: I do not and never will own Dragon Age: Origins, Awakening, or Dragon Age 2, etc. All characters are the property of BioWare, etc, and this is NOT for profit.

A/N: Chapter 7, after like…10,000 years! The pairing remains FemHawke (mage)/Anders. The other big character pairing is Isabela/Fenris because I *heart* Isabela—I would so take Isabela with me wherever I traveled! One more chapter before we meet the Hero of Ferelden! That said…you know the drill: you like it, you read. You don't well…yeah, you get it. Constructive Criticism is welcome. Thanks.

'_Thought' & Flashbacks_

"**Justice"**

"Speaking"

Everything else

* * *

**Praevâricâtor (Chapter 7)**

He remembered, as they traveled the corridors through Vigil's Keep, all the instances where he'd joked with Surana, either receiving a critical eye or a shrug and girlish giggle. The Warden Commander was a wonder in and of herself, without even knowing it most of the time. She walked with an air so firm, so commandeering that anyone could see she was a natural fit for the post of Warden Commander—why wouldn't she be? Anders had spent many a nights staring at her, wondering at her, thinking of her because she was the Mage from the circle who had freed them. By then, he had been long gone though, and unlike most of the Circle he was still alive. He had heard rumors of the Circle's destruction prior to their freedom, of Uldred's betrayal and usage of Blood Magic. But never had he thought he would meet the Hero of Ferelden in a place like Vigil's Keep, in a place where he'd been whisked away as a sentenced apostate. Apostates, such a dirty word given to their kind like all of them were such scum in all of Thedas. He had a bias, as a mage, as a mistreated person seen as something dangerous and evil before even being given a chance. And he understood that now, he was truly that—an abomination, a disgusting demonized creature of the fade. That a benevolent spirit had now become a monster inside of him, warped by his own ideals, was only the icing on top of his ruined life. But they were his choices, he knew. Pausing at the doorway that led to the lower reaches of the keep, he immediately recalled how they'd stopped here before to check out the tunnels made by the Darkspawn. He remembered how Surana tirelessly worked and gathered sovereigns to save the infrastructure of the crumbling, dilapidating peak in order to salvage something for her fellow Grey Wardens; and she never once complained. He recalled the adventures, the shared words, the advice, the Broodmother. It was hard to imagine the Keep in the state it was but indeed it was present and very real whether he liked it or not.

Behind him he could hear Hawke poking about the broken furniture, the finery stained with darkspawn blood and scents of decay. She was very much a child sometimes and she tried her best to preserve her role as leader but they'd all been around each other so long that Anders knew how much effort this all took. He knew that she was an excellent actress, that she would do everything in her power to ensure that team morale was at its best and even suffer herself in silence as a result. He could not understand how she could do this to herself. She could not understand how this was a continuous wheel she endured; then again, it was one of the reasons he loved her so much. Despite the distance between them caused by him breaking her heart, Hawke had shown amazing resilience and strength when it came to putting that aside. She put plenty of space between them in the days that followed their interludes but not once had she suggested, since then, that they remain together, that they be what they were. That part of their relationship was broken, done and the new chapter was starting out rough. She had expectations of him that he would need to fulfill, whenever they decided to talk about it, before they could encroach on such a heartfelt, trusting journey. He had to earn her trust again and it was something to be said that she would not let it be done so easily. She would love him, she said; but he would not be able to waltz back into her life unless it was on her terms and unless it followed the rules she'd eventually set in place for them. And since he loved her so deeply Anders knew he would abide by them because she was worth it, for however long he had left to live. How could he abandon her? She'd been everything he'd needed, everything he'd wanted, everything. She was all he wanted and he knew by not sharing with her, by not trusting her, that he had shattered her heart to the point of no repair. Yet her love for him seemed to be his only saving grace as nothing else seemed to be holding what were once them together.

She was afraid to trust him again; afraid to let him in again, fearful that he should hurt her again because of his cause—he would not change. Could she handle it? _'Fool that I am,'_ she mused. _'I would wait for him forever because he is the love of my life…pathetic as that may be.'_ Her friends did not approve, very much like a family would disapprove of her taking him back after such a deep betrayal. Hawke was not as foolish as people believed; or she was the biggest bloody idiot around for her decision to have him remain as her love. She had asked herself why she did—love was not fleeting. Romance died, even the surface picture faded away, however love did not simply disappear. If she could forgive this hurt then what else was she willing to give? He would pay his dues, redeem his soul. Until then, Anders would remain at arm's length and she would listen to the words of her friends until the changes were made, until he had fixed that which she saw fit. She would deny him until she felt it was time to let him return; let him try again, even if they never worked out. It was a chance she was willing to take but did not come lightly in the days that had waned before their return to Ferelden. It was not something she took lightly though to the others, it may have seemed so. She loved him; what could she do? Love was blind and for her, this was particularly so. But she had duties to Thedas, to her friends, to the Mages, to Kirkwall, and mostly, to her heart, fool thing that it was. _'What am I getting myself into?' _Her mind could only focus on this as she heard Anders moving almost too silently about the keep. His footsteps stopped and she wondered what it was that he was looking at in the quiet air about them. She didn't dare hope that he too was thinking about them should he suddenly rebuke what he had told her. She remembered the conversation well while she'd stayed away from him, kept him as far away as she could as the ache continued in her heart. She had not told anyone of her decision for she was sure everyone would try to sway her from it but she had to do it, for herself. It was no longer about what others thought. He would have to work like hell though to redeem himself.

"Hawke…I hear something down here."

Immediately she turned her attention to the left where Anders stood at a door that was still in decent condition. It was relatively silent and she too could hear noises from below. But they were not close enough to tell. Seconds later Anders had slightly pushed open the door while Hawke crept closer, only to back pedal when he reached so quickly for his staff she only had a moment to spare before the blue cracks appeared through his skin. Gasping, Hawke didn't have time to think as he turned on her.

"Darkspawn!"

He took off at an alarming pace and she too followed, as quickly as possible, her staff at the ready as she chased after him. He was fast, quick and agile as he ran down the stairs into a dark, cave-like corridor that instantly changed from the stagnant air of the Keep to a chilling, ominous air that reminded them both of the Deep Roads. Even though he was fluctuating as Anders and Vengeance while they ran through the cavern mouth Hawke knew better than to think that she was actually completely safe with the Spirit should he win this battle. Casting auras and spell as they ran, both Mages tried their hardest to ensure that they were ready to take on whatever darkspawn might emerge. Without their arsenal around, particularly Aveline and Fenris, they could pay a serious price when it came to fighting. Hawke had no doubts about how powerful she was and could be but she knew that defensively they were at a great disadvantage. Mages specialized in offensive spells and curses, glyphs and paralysis, spells and magical attacks. Neither of them was a warrior and neither of them stood a great chance against a pair of swords or arrows. While both of them could take a significant amount of damage because of their enchanted armor, she knew that a few hits could seriously hurt her. She hadn't brought anything more than one regular lyrium potion to replenish her supply but if they were up against Darkspawn she wasn't sure one flask would suffice. Anders didn't seem to notice, which she attributed to the fact that he was probably not Anders right now. Vengeance seemed to be peeking out and she was sure that the spirit was the one who was with her.

Pushing that thought aside as he came to a halt before her, Hawke glanced around the darkened hallway of the cave, taking special note of the chill that ran up her spine from being so close to him, even if it wasn't Anders. His body still smelled of her love, still radiated the heat of a human body and still breathed the air of life, and not of the fade. It made the ache in her heart deeper as she imagined the road ahead of them, a long, arduous road filled with heartache, pain, love, redemption and most of all, a coming home. Until then she would suffer, he would suffer and they would be parted by obligations, responsibilities and things that could not be so easily. Sighing internally, she held her head high as he swept his head in an arc, scoping the area for Darkspawn. She could hear them, the faint sound of armor clanking and grunting evident in the damp air. They really were foul creatures, and she despised them so much more since the destruction of Lothering, since the destruction of everything she had once held dear. Unlike Kirkwall, Lothering had memories she cherished, memories of family that no longer existed. While she held some of these from Kirkwall as well, they had never been a whole family while inhabiting the city. The Free Marches had little freedom to offer them, as well as other Fereldens, when they'd landed on its docks 7 years ago. She didn't think knowing anything now would have made a difference back then, not with how things were during that time let alone the uncertainty of the Blight. The fact that the Hero, Surana, had made such great strides at all had been wonderful. The fact that the Circle in Ferelden had been freed brought her some hope since she had not known that. If Anders hadn't mentioned it then she would've bypassed the Circle altogether. But with the new possibility that First Enchanter Irving being a free mage meant that he may not have felt the need for the Circle to rebel against their leader. Of this, she couldn't be sure until she came to that juncture of their journey.

Staying herself against the aging, crumbling stone wall, Hawke did her best to not lean into Anders. Every inch of her craved him like lyrium, every part of her itched to draw him near, to touch him any way that she could. But she could not allow herself this. They had already conceded to their desires before and she wasn't sure adding fuel to the fire would make anything better. She needed to be able to stand on her own again, and she would. Physically this was not an issue for Hawke—she'd always been the strong one, the one to protect and lead. But emotionally she was not too lucky, lately, when it came to her relationship with Anders. He had entrapped her into feelings she wasn't familiar with, feelings she had denied for years and only gave into after time had passed. Yes, time had so much to do with things like this. Aveline had warned her not to give in too easily as their relationship returning to its previous state would only be disastrous. But Hawke had quite the time denying the touches, the embraces—or had been. Resilient she may be but love was something newer to her. Lust and like, affection and superficiality, were things Hawke was all too familiar with; it was what made walking away so easy. That had been a mild pang. Wronged love had also been this in Lothering. But what she felt now, this love she was unwilling to discard was something all too new to her. Leandra had always taught Hawke about forgiveness, something her mother wasn't ever shown because she married a mage. Yet Leandra had been happy with her father, happy with her children and all life had offered her as a result of their union. Why couldn't she have that too? '_Well, Anders is a murder for one, an Abomination for two…' _that thought train wrecked within seconds as she realized it was disastrous. She wanted to feel sure, she wanted to be able to look at him and not disappoint the others. Yet she already had.

Sighing internally, Hawke waited for the signal that she could proceed to slay some darkspawn but Anders had yet to give the word. His tense electric waves rolled over her again and again, numbing her to any wayward thoughts she might have about the situation they were in at the moment. Unable to hold back any longer, Hawke moved closer to his unmoving form.

"What's holding you back?" She hissed.

He gave no reply, seemingly ignoring her completely to which Hawke immediately bristled. She didn't like being ignored—not that anyone did—but she particularly hated it when Anders did so, spirit or no spirit. Instead of heeding his reply, she shoved past him, anger and defiance in her stead. She couldn't really fathom or justify why she was doing such a thing but her resolve wouldn't be denied, even when his hand shot out to stop her. It only took mere seconds for the Darkspawn to notice her before the first wave was electrocuted to death by Tempest, which, conveniently, drained almost all of her remaining energy. She noticed that the second wave seemed slightly stunned so she reached for her lyrium flask, aghast to find Anders shooting past her, Vengeance hurling bolts of electricity at the creatures now charging towards them, swords drawn and snarling. Her elemental shield and rock armor immediately swirled about as she tried to shoot more energy bolts at them. _'Oh Hawke, you fool!'_ she shouted inside her own head as Anders Death Syphon began to take effect. Now more than ever she wished Merrill was here with her blood magic. It seemed to have a knack of zapping Darkspawn in particular. For all his abilities and magical powers as Vengeance, Anders could not hold the hoard of Darkspawn back; naturally Anders was a healer. Hawke, too, was also primarily a healer, though her force abilities rivaled that of any skilled arcane warrior. Throwing caution to the win she darted in, impaling a Genlock on the edge of her staff before shooting the full impact of her Force shield until it crushed the vile creature to the ground.

Breathing hard from the adrenaline, it took moments before she heard Anders shouting at her to retreat, his injured form pushing her towards the entrance. His movements were erratic even as his labored breathing told her he needed to heal before they went anywhere. She didn't have another second to inquire a he shoved her through the door, practically dragging her shocked form through the hall of the keep as they heard the Darkspawn following close behind.

"Anders!"

"**Enough, girl. You would be wise to alert your friends about this matter. The Darkspawn do not leave a battle until everything is slain! Foolish Mage!"**

She bristled again but knew better than to argue with Vengeance. He was right whether she liked to admit it or not. She needed her team and running from the creatures through the abandoned hallways was the only way she'd make it out alive to gather her reinforcements. Ignoring his remark she threw his arm from her as she proceeded to follow closely behind him until they could both see twilight ahead through the broken door of Vigil's Keep. Once in the open air she realized most of her camp had probably retired for the evening save for Aveline and Donnic who were sitting at the fire, guarding no doubt. Hawke barely managed to reach them when Darkspawn began piling out of the broken double doors. Arrows rained on them, most of which barely grazed Hawke thanks to Anders shoving her out of the way. It was mere seconds before she saw the glint of silver armor, signifying that Fenris, Donnic, Aveline and Carver had sprung to action. She was trying to catch her stunned breath when she felt more than saw Isabella dance past her, daggers at the ready as she followed the rest of them. Merrill was beside her in minutes, Wrath of the Elven conjuring whatever plant life was around to squeeze the life out of the vile creatures. Varric's arrows retaliated in waves as Bianca sang her triumphs at hitting target after target. The sheer multitude of Darkspawn coming towards them, accompanied by those already dead on the floor, irked the Champion as she pulled her staff from its resting place and began casting auras on her party. Anders was to her other side, where mages should be, healing—she could now see he was Anders; Vengeance had disappeared. Utilizing her Elemental Mastery, Hawke cast blizzard as quickly as possible in order to grant her companions the opportunity to shatter the remaining onslaught to bloodied red ice shards.

The battle, though intense, lasted a mere few minutes in actuality. Once it had concluded, Hawke ran a hand through her hair, lips and fingers trembling. Whether from fear, anxiety or downright adrenaline she couldn't say but she knew that it wasn't exactly the most normalized feeling she had had in some time. However, she was unable to ponder further when Aveline walked up to her, pale face and red hair covered in Darkspawn blood; Hawke was glad none of it was the warrior's. Sighing, the mage tried to look calm but Aveline seemed to see right through it as she cocked her head at the Champion.

"Hawke…are you alright? You seem shaken."

Shaking her head, the Spirit healer rubbed her temples. "No, I'm fine. This was just…a surprise is all."

"You know, sweet thing, you're a terribly bad liar. Have I ever told you that?" Isabela's lurid voice interrupted Aveline before she could say another word. But both women gave Hawke a pointed stare to which she responded with an irritated glare. The pirate chuckled. "Oh, love, this is completely ridiculous. Your "wrath" doesn't quite have the same effect on us as it used to."

"Oh, for shame that it doesn't, wench!" Hawke snapped at the Siren as she whirled away, arms crossed against her chest like a petulant child whose secret had been unearthed. If she had any more energy or sense at the moment she was sure that her staff would've end up in Isabela's face. Yet this never occurred as she began marching away into the tented area of camp where she had setup her own earlier in the evening. She could feel Anders to her left side, his prominent magic rolling off him in tense waves dictating awareness and pensiveness that threatened to be her ultimate undoing if she paid any attention to it. Steeling her nerves Hawke tried her best to appear nonchalant, or calm, cool and collected to her companions but, she figured, would happen to no avail. They were right. All her companions could see right through her by now; it had been 8 years. "Well…there's no point in pretending like I'm unaffected by what's happening…I might as well gather everyone and get ready to depart this place. We have yet to find anything very useful other than hoards of Darkspawn."

"Talking to yourself is one of your scarier traits, I have to admit."

Hawke's eyes narrowed at Varric's voice. "I beg your pardon Varric, but I do believe private monologues are allowed. Besides," she threw him a hasty grin from over her shoulder. "I do believe that you can somehow spin that into a wild-tale about the Champion eventually losing her mind."

Varric's returned grin was enough to ease her rigid regard into a relaxed tone as she visibly lost tension in her body. The rogue dwarf nodded as they both turned to see everyone else packing up supplies and tearing down their makeshift tents. "Seems to me, oh mighty Champion of Kirkwall, that this party knows when to move on and make haste."

"So it would seem, Varric, my friend," she answered, allowing her shoulders to sag in slight defeat. "I suppose that it would be wise to gather the rest of whatever supplies might have been found here. I for one have found nothing. Were you able to find anything in any of the locked chests with Isabela?"

"No," he supplied quickly. "She disappeared again, as she miraculously does now and then. It's become more frequent as of late, though."

Hawke shook her head. "Yes, this is becoming a concern for me. I haven't quite figured out how to approach her about this but I imagine it will be amusing nonetheless."

"Isn't it always?"

Nodding her agreement the Champion made her way towards the rest of her party in hopes of briefly snatching Isabela away in order to give her a light interrogation into her recent string of disappearances. Hawke wasn't by any means angry about such an occurrence but did want to ensure that Isabela understood that randomly disappearing was something to note. _'I really do dislike being the one to constantly keep people in line…like some tyrant._' She had never been one for demanding things of her friends other than loyalty since she practically commanded it from the very beginning. But she has always made it known that while she did command such a thing none of her party was obligated to stay by her. She thanked that any of them did, especially after the destruction of the Chantry. She was lucky to be alive and have them by her side every second of every day in the never-ceasing battle between the Mage Rebellion and the Templars. That innocents were constantly involved was something Hawke was more than ashamed of, wishing she could purge the world of all its hatred. _'Somehow…Anders…I don't think even Andraste would forgive either of this for the madness we have caused.'_ She included herself in this equation because in truth she felt responsible, to a certain extent, for the actions of all her companions and for all those in Kirkwall she had come to serve and protect. She was in no way ever an authority figure like the Knight Commander or the Viscount, not even Seamus. And yet a part of her, the Champion in her, knew she held great responsibility—a price she paid for the powerful position she'd earned as a result of landing on Kirkwall's docks all those years ago.

She may never have admitted outwardly but everyone around her knew that she held herself responsible for Anders' actions, for the Templars choices, for Leandra and Bethany's deaths, for Carver's choice, for the Grand Cleric's death. She had been the one to defeat the Arishok, the one to save Isabela, to save Fenris, to welcome the lost souls of Aveline and Anders into her own restless, pained heart. She had been the one to decide on a partnership with the roguishly handsome dwarf, part of the merchant's guild with a pension to cause problems for the Coterie. All in all, she knew that with such people in her life also came the disappointment, the expectations, the concern, all the things she vowed to never really feel again, not since Bethany and Leandra. But here she was, all over again, 8 years to the day wishing, on some lowly level, that she'd never grown close to these individuals. Hawke felt the guilt seep into her veins like the slowest infectious disease as she thought how wonderful their lives would've been had they not met. While Aveline would constantly remind her that meeting Hawke was one of her greatest endeavors, that following the strong-willed, righteous but realistic Champion was something she'd do all over again if given the chance, Hawke could not fully accept this. It meant that she held a large portion of their lives in her hands, in her grasp, to do with as she pleased. It was a scary concept that the former Champion pondered on more often than not. And in pondering such she would find her thoughts drifting to Anders and to the Hero of Ferelden, Mistress Surana. How did they follow through with such a heavy burden? Anders knew the price he would pay as result of his drastic statement; Surana must have known that her request to free the Circle would cause uproar. As the only freestanding Circle of Magi, Ferelden must have given King Alistair plenty of headaches.

When she thought about it, Hawke's curiosity overtook her thought to see Isabela. Her current interest in the Hero grew and grew with each passing moment, especially with the small amount of information Anders had disclosed. How did Surana find it within herself to be so strong as to give up on the love of her life? Again, everyone had heard the stories of the Warden Commander and her faithful, strong and unwavering love for the King of Ferelden. While in appearance Alistair was, technically, married to Anora, Hawke had heard that the former queen was actually locked up somewhere that Alistair never had to look upon her; after all, the former warden recruit had killed Anora's father. While Surana may have found it in her heart to forgive Loghain, Hawke had heard that it was not the same for King Alistair. She wasn't entirely sure of the details of that story but somehow it no longer mattered. In the bigger scheme of things, one thing alone became their sole task—find the Hero of Ferelden. It wasn't that Surana would be their savior or salvation but Hawke had the feeling that such a formidable woman held a lot of key answers. That she'd disappeared just before the bloody uprising was also curious to Hawke, amongst many other people including the Chantry. Cassandra and Leiliana had demonstrated as much.

"Did you need something sweet thing?"

Hawke maintained her cool, collected composure though she'd be lying if she said Isabela hadn't startled her. The pirate always had a knack for sneaking up on people, especially now that she'd returned to her usual attire, the climate of Ferelden no longer cold enough for an extra cuirass. Her bodice seemed slightly cleaner and Hawke tried to figure out when there would've been time, let alone a place, for the Siren to wash it. Shrugging it off, she held the captain's attention with a narrowed look. Isabela automatically smirked.

"You already know what I'm going to say, or ask, don't you?"

Isabela's smirked widened. "And if I say yes, Hawke? What will you give Isabela?"

"A kiss, on the lips, if you answer correctly." Hawke's eyes remained serious though her lips tightened. Not a stranger to kissing women, or spending the night with them, she knew Isabela would take the bait. Her sneaking suspicion that the Pirate was knocking boots with Fenris standing aside, Hawke knew that Isabela had wanted to taste any part of her she could, even now. "Care to take that challenge Isabela?"

Face becoming coy, the pirate sauntered closer to Hawke until they were a few inches apart. "You know, Hawke, the delicious Hero once invited me to her quarters, with Alistair no less. I've won every challenge presented to me before now. I don't back away from such things."

"Good, because I'm going to enjoy watching you hot and bothered when you lose, my friend," Hawke's eyes glinted with mischief and firmness that would've unsettled any other person. Gesturing for her to continue, Isabela waited impatiently for Hawke's question. "Have you been sneaking off with Fenris to knock boots, my friend?" Isabela snorted, nodding easily, which didn't surprise Hawke at all. "And are you falling in love with him?" For what had to be third time in all her years of knowing the dark-skinned beauty Hawke saw true uncertainty and discomfort cross the other woman's face. "You…are…aren't you?"

"I don't do relationships or love, Hawke. You know this already," Isabela snapped, trying to recollect herself but failing miserably. "No…feelings are not a good thing. I've told you this before."

"Isabela…you once told me you don't do the whole complicated friendship things either." Hawke stopped the pirate from getting away, her grip strong. "Why are you afraid to? Fenris is a worthy adversary yes…but he is also deserving and worthy of love. As are you, my dearest friend."

Practically throwing off her grip, Isabela began to walk away. She paused right before her belongings before looking at Hawke forlornly. "You know…if I am deserving of love…then so are you, no matter what the cost."

With that, Hawke was left with her own wayward thoughts as Isabela gathered her things and disappeared in the brush where Varric and Aveline had vanished moments earlier. '_This is just…going to be a spectacular trip to the Brecilian Forest…'_

Upon entering the Brecilian Forest the next afternoon Hawke already felt the pressure in her temples growing as Fenris and Anders continued their charade of tolerating each other but remaining, more or less, unsuccessful at hiding their mutual disdain. The black cloud that seemed to follow them was beginning to wear on her already frayed nerves to the point where she was sure someone was going to end up with her staff embedded in his skull, figuratively speaking. Keeping the peace in Kirkwall had been a challenge but thankfully there were outside factors that assisted with this, like the Knight Commander's very obvious presence and disdain for the Mages; and Slavers waiting for any opportunity to recapture the lyrium infused elf. Now it was all up to her and she wasn't sure that she could maintain the peace in a calm, collected manner like she had in the City of the Gallows. If she was lucky, then her companions would solve it themselves, or someone else would step in and help keep the peace. Carver would be ideal since he was powerful as a Templar but that fact that he was a Templar would only further agitate Vengeance. Aveline wasn't opposed to the job and after their discussion last night, Hawke was sure that Isabela wouldn't mind reigning in Fenris, at the very least. Yet this still left the issue of Anders and, quite frankly, she wasn't sure who would deal with the Rebel mage. She knew she was the most likely candidate but now with the new development of Vengeance wanting to slay her, literally, she was not to keen on being the sole person responsible for restraining him. A little help would be appreciated but who would be up for it?

'_Varric, possibly,'_ she thought as they trekked through the forest, the air clean and surroundings still green and rich with life. She took note of this right away. _'Either we're not deep enough in or the Darkspawn and war have not made it here yet.' _Merrill seemed to be enjoying herself immensely as they traveled through the lush forest grounds, her playful nature shining as she skipped ahead of them as though none of them were there. Hawke wasn't sure if this stemmed from the fact that Merrill had missed her natural homelands, or because she was happy to see living things not stained with death's stench. Either way it couldn't be such a bad thing. At this Hawke spied a careful side glance at her brother who was smiling at Merrill's behavior with such an affectionate look it almost brought a sense of serenity to the Champion's features. But the curiosity remained as did Hawke's reservations. At this precise moment she drew her attention to her left and immediately her eyes landed on Anders, who was walking resolutely away from the rest of the group. His demeanor demonstrated despair and he didn't even seem notice how beautiful the scenery was around them, which agitated her. If he couldn't find the beauty in anything then he might as well be dead, or so many a saying had been said. Such a thought, she felt, wasn't completely unwarranted but despite all that she didn't want to dwell on it. They had a hard road ahead of them in the Brecilian forest and she wanted to be sure that nothing would deter them.

Gritting her teeth in annoyance, the former Champion of Kirkwall turned her attention back to the road that lay before her, thoughts heavy. Moments later they were standing in an open clearing that vaguely resembled a meadow that may have been used for cattle or to setup camp by previous nomads. Judging by how barren it now seemed, lush forest ground aside, Hawke would venture to think that it had been an elf encampment, maybe Dalish though she couldn't be sure.

"Hawke, do you think there were elves here before?"

The woman in question snapped from her reverie and brought her attention to Merrill, who was gazing at her with big doe eyes. "Elves?" She looked thoughtful. "I would certainly guess that there may have been. It looks like they might have been here for a while though not recently. Why do you ask?"

"Do you think they were Dalish?"

"Your guess would be as good as my own, Merrill. But yes, I do think so. When I…" she paused for a moment before pressing on. "When I lived in Lothering these woods were frequented by Dalish Elven tribes, though I never had the chance to confirm this with my own eyes. My parents, you see, had told us of a curse upon the Dalish within these woods that could not be broken. As the story goes, shortly after the Hero of Ferelden passed through Lothering and it was…well, supposedly the Hero broke the curse and the Dalish were free."

Merrill blinked. "Yes, I suppose I've heard of that curse myself…something dealing with werewolves. Though I never saw it either."

Hawke nodded as they passed through the worn clearing, her mind and body eager to get to a safe camping place sooner than later. It was growing dark and she did not want to be stuck in the middle of an open space. Concealment was an important factor when it came to staying out of trouble. While a clearing would provide sufficient space to battle from all sides, camouflage provided a cloak of mystery she could use as a mage. Her original plan had been to see if any Dalish were left in the area before heading to Redcliffe in search of Arl Eamon and Bann Teagan, the man who had been with Alistair when she'd met him in Kirkwall those years ago. She was eager to see if the rest of Thedas had been corrupted like many of the other places she'd encountered. She needed to see, for herself, how far the treacherous war of mage vs. templar reached in order to find support to end it, no sides taken. While she knew they needed to, eventually, make their way to Lake Calenhad and the Circle Tower where First Enchanter Irving served, she hadn't been completely sure about taking a direct route there through Denerim and the Bannorn. It seemed like an easier route to get caught before their journey actually began. And, if she had to be honest, Hawke thought that Denerim and the Bannorn, obviously, would be the last places they'd find the Hero of Ferelden. Surana would not be anywhere to public if she was searching for something on her own, not to mention that Alistair had already sent out search parties for her prior to now. Chances were that they would just randomly run into her, especially since none of them had any actual clue as to where she might be, or where she might have gone.

'_But where? I haven't the slightest clue where to really start trying to find her. Some direction would be excellent._' But Hawke knew this was asking a lot already. During their journey they still had to remain undetected to fellow mages and Templars. Neither group was particularly happy with them, after all. Regardless, she knew they had to setup camp somewhere, if only for a night, or she needed a collective agreement from the group that they keep traveling until there were past the largest of past Dalish encampments, which she assumed was closer to Lothering and still miles ahead of them. She'd guessed they were still about two or three days time from there, if she remembered anything about the layout of the outskirts of Lothering that lead into the Brecilian forest. The major Dalish encampment had been in the direct path to her old home, something she was stealing her nerves for; there was no quicker or more direct way to Redcliffe than to go through her old abode. Hawke knew that aside from dealing with Anders, this would be the hardest thing she had faced yet within the last year. She took a quick glance around again and noticed that the group had paused, Fenris, Carver, Aveline and Donnic looking around. _'Scouting? Did I miss something?' _Being a mage had its advantages and Hawke raised her awareness. A quick glance told her Anders felt something, or someone, in the general vicinity too.

Before they could react there was a blade at Varric's throat, and Hawke barely had time to pull her staff out. The hooded figure crouched behind the dwarf held the blade firmly but didn't press it any further towards his neck. The hooded figure nodded and released Varric, the blade disappearing within the person's cloak. _'Cassandra?'_

"I suppose I shouldn't have needed more proof that you are the infamous Champion of Kirkwall. I never thought I'd run into you in such a place. It seems odd but fortuitous indeed."

Anders paled, taking a brief step back and knocking into Fenris who bristled and brought his sword straight to the mage's head. Within reflexes she didn't know he possessed, Anders' staff collided with the elf's blade, successfully blocking it from taking his head clean off. Hawke felt the sudden spike of tension in the air when the figure let out a very audible sigh at the display. Hawke threw her a scornful look as she rushed over to Fenris and Anders, throwing them each an angry glare and shoving them apart forcefully. Fenris made a sour face as he turned his back to them, suddenly finding Merrill more interesting than ever while Anders readjusted himself and gave Hawke a somewhat frustrated look. Ignoring them, she spun back to the stranger, obviously a woman. She was about to inquire, albeit forcefully and rudely, who the person was when Anders stumbled forward, and fell to his knees.

"Commander…"

The hood of the cloak fell and the Hero of Ferelden stood before them, hair scraggly and lips in a thin, worn smile. "Anders…it has been a long time, my friend."

* * *

_Well that was…not as exciting as it could be but I tried. The next chapter should be a lot more exciting…I hope! The next stop will be Redcliffe for a little bit…not sure where else after that so we'll play it by ear. The Amazing Spiderman was amazing and The Walking Dead starts soon so there will be a lot going on. R&R, or don't. Again…My deepest thanks to those who still read and review. My deepest apologies to those who no longer do because of my procrastination and other reasons. Regardless, I really, truly appreciate it. Thank you! I *heart* you all! Time to return to the KH universe, for now._

_~Sadistickunais_


	8. Chapter 8

Note to Disclaimers: I do not and never will own Dragon Age: Origins, Awakening, or Dragon Age 2, etc. All characters are the property of BioWare, etc, and this is NOT for profit.

A/N: Chapter 8, after such a damn long time! The pairing remains FemHawke (mage)/Anders. The other big character pairing is Isabela/Fenris because I *heart* Isabela—I would so take Isabela with me wherever I traveled! Okay so I messed up last chapter and we ended up meeting the Hero of Ferelden a tad bit ahead of schedule! With that said…you know the drill: you like it, you read. You don't well…yeah, you get it. Constructive Criticism is welcome. Time for Hawke to settle down and listen to the wise Surana! Thanks.

'_Thought' & Flashbacks & Singing_

"**Justice"**

"Speaking"

Everything else

* * *

**Praevâricâtor (Chapter 8)**

Anders shied away in shame as the fingers of his friend landed gently on his face. The Hero's soft, understanding gaze made him feel dirty, like a fool. She offered him a weak, plaguing smile as she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. Behind her, Hawke bristled at this but made no move to interfere. Anders felt a tear slide down his cheek.

"Anders…my dear friend…what has become of you?"

The Renegade mage grabbed her hands, clutching them to his face as another tear fell. "Commander…I am…so sorry."

"Ssh…my friend. Do not be sorry. I know what lurks within your soul, the hatred for those that would oppress us. But you cannot be filled with hate and vengeance forever. If we should end the Mage's Plight, and begin the change all mages deserve, you will no longer need to hate. Please…you need to find your peace, dearest Anders."

His shame boiled over so much that Anders finally fell to his knees, bringing Surana with him, as silent sobs shook his body. Hawke could no longer find it in her to be jealous; the Hero of Ferelden was a good, forgiving woman—she was a mage, and a persecuted elf at that. Standing there, Hawke felt like an intruder on such a touching scene but no one had made any move to command her leave. Instead, she watched, still as a statue, as the Warden Commander whispered soothing words into Hawke's lover's ear. If it was any other person Hawke may have blasted her into oblivion, but this was the woman they had all been searching tirelessly for. The Commander had been with them but a few minutes and already she had brought one of the most vengeful, hateful forces to its knees. Hawke had to admire her for that, and more.

"Anders, please…tell me what is it that Justice requires? If I could, perhaps, speak to him, he may see reason," the hero said, her face filled with compassion and a firm glint in her eye that Anders feared as he had seen it before. Smiling, the hero shook her head. "I will not dispose of him, Anders, for you are still here. Please, let us converse."

Nodding carefully, Anders allowed the spirit—who had been itching to spring forth—into his conscious mind until the blue cracks that signaled Vengeance's arrival shone brightly in the dimly lit keep. **"Grey Warden, I see you have returned."**

"I have not been long, spirit. Tell me…what has become of you? I only sense vengeance lurking in your wake. Have you become corrupted by Anders' emotions?"

"**No! Anders and I have become one and he is as much me and I am him. I only seek revenge against those that would oppress us!"**

The Hero shook her head again; though she no longer wore the sweet, caring smile Hawke had seen her grace Anders with moments ago. "No, Spirit. You are not Anders. You are a spirit who entered a contract with a host; but you do not own this host—you are not a demon. I know it has been a long time since you have merged with this host but you can leave." She stood, staring down at the abomination before her. "You are not a demon in need of a host. I will take you back to the fade—you will end your contract, do you understand?"

"**I seek vengeance! I cannot leave until my task is complete."**

She pointed her staff at him. "Do not press me, old companion. I will not hesitate to dispose of you. In the fade you are powerful but here you are a mere parasite, hindered by Anders human body—you cannot fight me in such a state."

At this moment, Hawke stepped forth. "No, don't provoke him. He will kill us all, and Anders with him. He cares not for Anders."

The Hero nodded her acknowledgment to Hawke's statement but gave her a weak smile in return. "Champion, I cannot stress the direness of this situation; but rest assured Vengeance will not destroy Anders. Without his host he cannot complete his task or he will be forever wandering this world. As a spirit from the fade, though he does loathe being here in Anders body, he will not do anything to endanger that which will help him complete his task. Please, trust me. No harm will come to him."

Hawke felt oddly comforted and assured by the Hero's words even though her Champion ego was telling her to ignore the woman's statement. Nodding her acceptance of assurance, Hawke lowered her previously raised staff, content to stand there as Vengeance retreated to the subconscious of Anders mind. The Renegade mage tried to reorient himself, his eyes landing on Surana as she stood before him with tired eyes. The Hero's scraggly appearance confirmed Hawke's suspicions that the hero had been out searching for something or someone. Surana's shoulders sagged suddenly, her staff holding her up, and Hawke knew she must be tired. Rushing to her aid, Anders steadied her, his eyes sorrowful and shamed.

"Please, commander, you must rest. We can setup camp here and continue travel in the morning."

Surana shook her head. "No, Anders we must—

His head snapped up. "Yes, I understand. We must continue on."

"What?" Hawke looked incredulous. "Certainly we can rest for at least an hour. Please, you must rest, Commander."

"No, there is no time. They draw near," she argued in her weakened state. "If we stay here, we will die. Move, now!" She pointed in the direction of Lothering. "Hurry, we do not have a moment to waste. Do as I say, Champion!"

Flustered, Hawke did as commanded, ordering her companions to dispatch themselves towards Lothering with an urgency she hadn't ever felt before. If not for the urgent warning in the Hero's tone she would have stayed put. But the Hero's voice dictated that she would hear no arguments, weak or not. They scrambled in the direction of her destroyed homeland with such haste that Hawke wasn't even sure when they'd finally stopped running. She only realized after what felt like tireless minutes of running that they'd gone at least a mile or so, everyone out of breath and panting visibly and loudly. The Hero looked very much like a wilting flower in the setting sun, her hair matted with sweat in the mild heat that remained from the earlier daytime and their haste moments ago. Hawke took a deep breathe to calm her frayed nerves as she watched Anders continue to hold up Surana. Once it seemed like there was no longer the need to run, Hawke brought her attention to the rest of her companions. Isabela was dusting off her legs and stretching lewdly in front of Fenris who seemed rather preoccupied with his sword. Varric was holding Bianca tightly to him, his stance calm but alert. Merrill was talking animatedly to Carver as if everything that transpired hadn't bothered her in the least. Lastly, Hawke saw that Aveline looked weary even as Donnic seemed to whisper words of assurance to the distraught captain of the guard. Sighing, the Champion returned her gaze to where Anders clutched Surana so tightly it looked like the frail Elven mage might break in two.

As if noticing the change in the atmosphere, Surana finally stood on her own, bringing her eyes to meet Hawke's narrowed pair. The hero gently laid her hand on Anders arm, signaling that she was fine and could, once again, stand on her own. "Anders, my dear friend, I am well. Please…I need to speak to the Champion."

Nodding his consent, he stepped away and disappeared within the group. Surana gently beckoned Hawke to follow her off a little ways from the group, her firm but kind eyes willing the suspicious Champion to trust her. When they reached a nice spot shaded by forest trees, still able to see the group, Surana stopped. Hawke bristled as the elf turned to her, a good head shorter than her but aura forbidding nonetheless. The cloak that enshrouded Surana seemed too heavy for the mage's small, lithe body but Hawke never would've been able to tell otherwise if she hadn't seen that moment of weakness. Sighing, she shifted from foot to foot as Surana pointed thoughtfully to the sky before them, the orange, blues, purples and reds illuminating a memory from Hawke's seemingly distant childhood.

"Was that what it was like, growing up, Champion?"

She was about to retort at the use of her previous title but Surana had a calming air about her; Hawke nodded quietly. "Yes…back when I was in Lothering…it was blissful, considering we lived in a small town. My mother…used to let us run around as we please, with the exception of entering the Brecilian Forest. My childhood was…pleasant." There was a tepid silence that followed. "Tell me…Hero...you lived in the Circle Tower, according to Anders. Were you…never able to see this?"

Surana smiled sadly. "Yes…I was taken to the Circle when I was very young. I cannot remember experiencing anything like this for many years. After all…saving the Blight was…an occurrence that has aged me greatly. I will assume that your time in Kirkwall has done this as well, to you." At Hawke's confirmation the hero proceeded to turn her eyes back to the ever changing sunset. "I am glad that I have finally found you. It would seem that the shared concern of the Mage and Templar war was not, in fact, unfounded. I tried to tell Alistair that trouble was brewing north of Denerim, of Ferelden; but he always did take a while to understand." Her smile was a ghost of happiness, of times remembered between her and the king of Ferelden. Hawke had a good idea what it was about but did not ask any questions. "I have thought of returning to Denerim to let him know the things I have found; but it would seem unwise as he is no longer there, and my disappearance seems to suit the situation better. I have needed to find my old companions. It seems that Anders will be one I do not have to search for anymore."

Hawke's eyebrow rose. "Hero, you and Anders…"

Surana's sly smile returned. "Anders and I were nothing more than companions on a dire quest to destroy an evil that could not be allowed to flourish. The Brood Mother had to be slain. Anders and I…are nothing more than friends."

Feeling like an immature, petulant child, Hawke blushed despite Surana's lack of attention. "I…apologize."

"There is no need to do so. I understand that you love him; as do I. But these feelings we both have for this man are vastly different. You see…I love another. I will always love him." At this, the elf's facial expression changed into one of disturbed happiness as she fingered the necklace hidden beneath her mages robes. "This…was a gift from the King so many years ago when I was awarded the Post of Warden Commander. At this time…it is all I have left of the man I love from afar, a man I serve because I am firmly dedicated to the well being of Ferelden. For the King I…would do anything, even stay away if that is what will protect us all."

"Such a sacrifice…I don't know that I could do the same, Hero," Hawke conceded feeling selfish.

Surana let out a chuckle. "You already have, my dear. And please…Surana is a fine name to use."

"Can I ask you something, Surana?" The elf nodded. "When…Anders destroyed the Chantry I…I lost my path." The elf granted her a knowing gaze, one full of pain and understanding. "I have no semblance of where to go now…"

Sighing deeply, Surana turned her gaze to fully land upon the distraught human mage. "It is a dire choice, my friend, one you will have to make and live with forever. You must do what is right and you have a great duty to your heart, Hawke. I cannot give you the answer you seek; but I will say this. The time will come when you must make a choice to save him or let him go. Just know that whatever your choice…you will always have the love you shared; it is precious. It will always be precious." Narrowing her eyes at the Champion, Surana nodded. "But we have a duty not only to our hearts, but also to our minds and people of Ferelden. The time will come, my dear Champion. Please know that whichever decision you make…I will understand."

Hawke nodded, lips in a tight frown. She didn't want to dwell on that topic for all the heartache and headaches it brought her, she needed that even less these days. It seemed that the Hero did not feel it appropriate to dwell either, her firm, commandeering expression returning to her slim, sun-kissed face as she turned to Hawke. "But I'm afraid we must discuss the crucial matter at hand. The current Mage and Templar war has shown no signs of settling. I do not know where my other companions are but I would be hard pressed to find Leiliana at this time. She has much influence in the Chantry and last I had heard, she was traveling with the Holy forces, the Seeker. Cassandra Pentaghast, I believe. I have evaded them many a times but it would seem this was an ill chosen path as I require Leiliana's assistance once more."

Hawke looked slightly alarmed, her weathered armor chafing while they walked side by side. "To be honest, one of my party recently had a run-in with her not too long ago. She was seeking information regarding my whereabouts, no doubt in relation to the bloody uprising in Kirkwall. I don't think that Anders and I will live past the dawn once this all comes to a cataclysmic ruin."

"We rarely ever do," Surana supplied with a heavy sigh. "And when we do…there is more than a heavy price to pay, I'm afraid to say."

"The stories...the tales…they are true then?" Hawke asked, a little nervously.

Surana nodded in response. "Which tale? But yes…I'm sad to say they are." She smiled wearily at her staff. "Alistair did marry Anora and she is indeed locked away in the best of care for her own good, and now, after many years, by her own choice. And…Alistair did impregnate Morrigan…something he felt was necessary to save my life. The Daughter of the Witch of the Wilds…she will be the last of my companions I seek, if I must."

Though she had heard the legends of the famously wild but beautifully crude Morrigan, she could hardly believe they were true let alone that the apostate had traveled with the famous Hero of Ferelden. Hawke had believed them lies, especially since Anders had not been present during the first journey to end the Blight. Surana let out a deep breath, one filled with heavy burden and no regrets. Hawke almost wanted to ask her if she had any along her path to become the Warden Commander but one look at the elf's face informed her that it would be wise to ask another time. It appeared as though Surana had a great deal on her mind that would be shared at a later time, if the way the elf looked into the horizon was any indication of her current thought process. With another sigh, the Elven Mage turned to her fellow counterpart, to which Hawke raised a brow.

"Come, we must get rest before the rest of what I have to say is said. It would be best to setup a small camp in the event that there is need for hasty retreat. In the meantime I will…" she nodded in the direction of Anders. "I will tend to Anders and see what more I can get out of him. Please…rest, Champion. It would be unwise to not do so."

Anders stood where she had been previously standing only moments ago with his gaze directed towards the night sky, dots of brilliant, bright white contrasting miraculously with the sapphire sight. He felt his shoulders sag a bit when he saw, from the corner of his eye, Surana heading towards him. Already knowing what was to come, he tried to mentally prepare himself for a berating lecture full of truth and no room for leniency. She was his commander, had saved his life on numerous occasions, and she had let his secret remain as such. He owed her so much and yet could give her, like Hawke, so little in return for their continued compassion and ill contrived mercy, as he saw it. He wasn't sure what excuse he would be able to give her, what sordid lie he would be able to tell her without her seeing right through it. Settling on honesty when she drew nearer, the Renegade mage sighed in resignation. Lying to his Commander was something that seemed almost impossible and after lying to Hawke, the woman he loved, he figured it was wiser to let the truth speak.

"Trying to figure out what you should say to me, are you, Anders? Truth would be best, as you well know," she supplied to his semi-shocked expression, her lips turned into a frown. "I would care to know how long you have been lying; keeping secrets from the woman you love. And from me."

"Surana, I…"

She shook her head. "Anders…I kept my promise to you. I did not inform Alistair, or the Circle, of your disappearance into Kirkwall with the other Ferelden refugees." He bristled. "But…now…I must ask you to return to your duty of the Grey Wardens. The war that you have started is one of our worries. While there is no Archdemon to fight, the Darkspawn are still growing. While I cannot sense any looming threat of Blight, I must complete a few tasks before…my time comes to an end. I have needed to find out where the Darkspawn are regrouping and for what dark purpose they do so; and we must find Morrigan."

Aghast, Anders turned to her. "The apostate daughter of the Witch of the Wilds?"

Nodding, the Elven mage looked thoughtful. "For what purpose Flemeth is seeking her, I don't know. But as her mother, there must be a reason. I must also, as mentioned, find why the Darkspawn have begun heavy movement again. For them to regroup so quickly after the Blight is curious. We need to find Nathaniel, Oghren and Velanna. I…need you to help me return to Denerim and seek out my companions of old—Zevran, Leiliana, Shale, Wynne…and others. While not Grey Wardens…I seek their aid in this quest as they have the experience required to track down the creatures."

"And what of Hawke and the others?"

Surana smiled. "They will come with us, of course. Hawke informs me that your quest was to find me though it seems I have discovered you, my friend." She glanced around. "And it would appear that it is safer if I remain here to keep an eye on Vengeance. Hawke is what seems to trigger him into an agitated state—she must be your obstacle, yes?" Anders nodded in embarrassment. "I will remain to remind him that such outbursts are unwise."

Feeling slightly more relieved, Anders crossed his arms over his chest. "Why are they looking for you commander, Cassandra and Leiliana?"

"Because I am the Hero. With Hawke and I as a team, they see it as a means to end the mage and Templar war, and then seek to control it without means of discussion. The tales of us are not without merit; however they are also quite outlandish. Whom should I have to thank for Hawke's stories?" She raised a quizzical but amused brow.

Anders snorted. "That would be Varric, the master story teller. He seemed to think immortalizing Hawke through ridiculous tales was the best way to have her remembered, despite her own effort in doing so."

Silence followed his statement as the low sounds of everyone setting up camp and such drifted to them from the clearing. The mere presence of Surana always seemed to have two opposing effects on him. Her presence was always comforting and always unnerving. It wasn't that she made him nervous but this was his Captain, head of the Grey Wardens. She wasn't just a mage; she was an Elven mage, which was no small feat in Ferelden where elves were treated like slaves. She was also First Enchanter Irving's first in command at the Circle tower, and his favorite to top it off. She was formidable and yet he knew the fragileness of her heart, of the spot saved solely for King Alistair, a spot that was her only weakness. Her companions understood what it was to walk with her, to fight with her, to die for her as their commander. It was unique to their friendship and to the Grey Warden Order, something he couldn't explain to Hawke. He equated it to his love for Hawke though this was born out a sense of duty, not of love. He had admitted long ago that he would have liked to bed the almighty Hero of Ferelden, the woman who saved them from the Blight; but she proved an immovable fortress, dismayed by beautiful rhetoric and flattery. She was unimpressed with his humor as she was with his attempts to woo her. Once they had moved past this they had become inseparable friends, which Anders took gladly as he learned more about her. He understood why Hawke would be jealous.

"How much do you love her, my friend?"

The question wasn't unexpected and Anders sighed. "More than life itself, Surana. But Vengeance…does not allow for the affections."

"He wishes her dead, out of the way, yes?" Anders nodded again, this time more hesitant in his actions than he would've liked to portray. His friend let a ghost of sadness whisk her features for a second before turning to him. "Anders, my friend…there will come a time. You will have to choose. If I cannot find a way to separate Justice from you…a choice will have to be made."

"There is no way to separate us," he replied quietly.

She smirked. "None that any Circle Enchanter or Mage will tell you of; that leaves only two more options. Would you like to hear them?" Her mien was serious, to which Anders agreed, slowly. "I believe there may be the option if old, forbidden Tevinter Magic is used. However, the aftermath and the price to pay could be rather…unfortunate." She sighed as she continued. "There is also…the possibility of Morrigan and Flemeth knowing something about this. I believe you already met her, The Witch of the Wilds?"

"Yes…in Sundermount when Hawke delivered an amulet to their Keeper, Marethari. That was where we met Merrill," he answered.

Another smile. "Yes, I met Merrill long ago. It would seem that her obsession with the Elven Eluvian did not end with my passing. Nevertheless, it would behoove us to at least find Morrigan and inquire into such possible methods of separation. She owes me no real favors but we did share some strange form of camaraderie and I do believe with Flemeth seeking her out, she may be willing to agree to this, if I am able to give her what she desires. I already…did once. But," she touched his arms tenderly. "I cannot guarantee the results, my dearest Anders. If they should prove futile…as I mentioned before…you will have to choose. Think it over. This is not something I see as being an easy decision for either of you. Perhaps it would be best if you discussed it with the Champion."

"Commander…that will be no easy feat. Hawke and I…we are not…what you call…agreeable at this time," he responded dejectedly.

"If you love her as you say, then you will not take no for an answer. And if she loves you, as she has expressed to me, then you will have a discussion regarding this matter, do you understand?" The command in her tone, the forcefulness was not to be argued with as she eyed Anders, her eyes hard. "Go now. I need to speak with Merrill and the other Elf, Fenris."

"You know he hates Mages, right?"

Chuckling, she nodded. "He will learn to not hate me, Anders. He will learn to understand our common goal." She crossed her arms over her bosom. "I do not see him as a slave, nor do I see him as a Warrior to be commanded. I see him as an equal as I see everyone in this party. Please have Hawke send the two of them to me, if you will. Then please go have a rest."

It was moments later that Merrill entered the area where Surana was still standing resolutely in the darkened, cool evening air. Merrill looked nervous while Fenris looked outright irritated to be in the presence of two mages—one he knew did blood magic, the other he was unfamiliar with at best. He didn't necessarily trust Surana but he made an exception to listen to her as Hawke requested. After all, she was the Hero of Ferelden and Hawke had rarely, if ever, steered him wrong before. If anything, he was doing it for her and the fact that she had requested this of him. The other Elven mage stared at him intensely, her entire focus on him as if Merrill wasn't there at all. This kept on for a good five minutes until he shifted his footing, his body tense and alert as the lyrium infused onto his skin burned with pain. Merrill stuttered backwards away from him, only stopping by Surana because he hissed from pain though hissing at her wouldn't have been too far off point. The hero raised a curious, questioning brow at him at the action, her look suddenly turning thoughtful.

"I take it your slave master did that to you," she said steadily. Fenris nodded. "I know your master was a mage. However, I would hope that the Champion has dissuaded you from your prejudice against all mages. Though…by the tenseness of your posture it is obvious you do not trust me—a wise decision."

"Should I have reason to distrust you?"

Surana let out a mirthful laugh, light hearted and matter-of-fact. "I don't claim to dictate any reasons for you to trust me, or distrust me. I am simply here to ensure that this war ends and that Darkspawn do not overrun your party. In the matter of this, I am here to ensure that the Champion is kept alive. As it seems now, Anders is not someone any of you can properly control or deal with, which is why I am here. I would need you to remain leveled headed and keep Hawke safe. I do believe this is an unspoken request amongst your party; but also a request from me as well."

Fenris shot her an irritated glare. He could tell she meant business just by the tone of her voice. He could also tell she was making a request, not giving an order. He could easily understand why she commanded respect without asking for it, see why she it was so easy for her to have the abomination bow to her will, see why she was able to live every day with the burden of a love she'd never have. If not for being a mage he would've found all these qualities attractive. She was so much like Hawke and yet so different. All the things he admired about his friend were the same things he currently saw in the hero, though, he had to admit she seemed far wiser than Hawke. He was unsure if the Hero had a playful air about her but given the current situation, it was all business and that's what seemed to be her mindset. Nodding in reply, he clenched his fists.

"I do not understand why you have asked me to come here with the blood mage." This was said with a large amount of disgust and Merrill cringed. "She has done things no differently than my old masters."

"And yet, Hawke has kept all of you around despite the things you have done, and will do," Surana supplied knowingly. "I am not here to judge anyone in this party. Hawke has her reasons for trusting you and continuing to have you here. I am here to keep an eye on Anders. Fenris, the important thing for you to know is that although I am a mage, I am not here to control you and such. We are equals. You are not a slave, nor are you a Warrior I will command. I only request that you keep Hawke and all her companions as safe as you can. Do not let blanketed hate blind you from those who will end up being your saviors in the end. Please…I must speak with Merrill now."

Fenris walked off silently, resolutely, his shoulders tight and posture hostile, which let Surana know that he hadn't exactly liked what she said. But she didn't dwell on it any further, instead turning her attention to the self-conscious mage on her left. "Why, Merrill…I don't remember you being this skittish at our last meeting. Has something happened that you'd like to share? I already know about your leaving the Dalish and revoking your duties as the First to Keeper Marethari." Merrill shot her an incredulous look, to which the Hero frowned. "And I knew about the Eluvian, Merrill."

"Surana, it's not…it's not what you think!"

Shrugging, she stared at the mage. "Then tell me what it is." She opened her mouth to speak then closed it quickly and the hero granted her a hard look. "Merrill, when we first discovered it, I told you that mirror was dangerous. Duncan and the Keeper explained it as well. Tampering with the Eluvian is dangerous. Trusting demons is even more so. You have seen what a benevolent spirit has become inside of Anders. Think what a demon could do with your knowledge, with your powers. Practicing Dalish are few and far in between, my friend. Hawke doesn't know, does she? About what happened before?"

Merrill had the decency to look embarrassed, shuffling from foot to foot as Surana punched her nose. "No, she doesn't, Hero. Please don't tell her. In Kirkwall…I destroyed it. Hawke advised it and I…should've told her. Surana…I can't go back to the Dalish. I can never go back."

Surana nodded. "I know, Merrill. It will be alright. We have a lot to go over. I need to know what abilities you've learned from Marethari. In order to save the Dalish we will need to work together. I know that this is your ultimate wish, Merrill. It always has been."

The Blood mage sighed. "That I wish I had your wisdom sometimes, Surana. For someone who has learned many things from the Keeper of her clan, I often feel foolish enough to do things I shouldn't."

"To save your people…I understand. We elves are not what we were. I understand your plight, dearest Merrill. But the usage of Blood magic is unwise. You must be ever vigilant of the demons that prey upon us and others. If not for you sake and safety," she glanced towards where Hawke was issuing orders to the remaining team. "Then for the sake of your friends that have not fallen. Please heed these words, my friend. And I would advise, in the future, that you do not hide secrets from Hawke. Not telling her that you have been here before was not a good decision—I say this as a friend."

Nodding, the younger Elven mage sighed. "What would it have been like…I wonder, if I had joined you in your travels?"

Surana laughed. "It would have been perilous, something I would not wish upon any person or being, not even my greatest enemy that wasn't a Darkspawn or the Archdemon itself. The travels of Grey Wardens are not something to be excited for; the horrors, the loss…it is not worth the glory. It comes with many sacrifices."

"I did not mean to…bring up such things," Merrill replied nervously. "I could never have been a good Keeper for our clan."

Her friend waved it away kindly. "Merrill, tell me about Hawke's sibling, Carver, was it?" She waited patiently as the Dalish mage launched into a full-fledged account of what she knew of Carver when they were in Kirkwall and after Knight Commander Meredith's madness and defeat. With careful observation the Hero was also able to deduce where Merrill stood within the group of misfits that had come to be with Hawke's leadership, reminding her very much of her travails with her own companions in both saving Ferelden and discovering the Broodmother's plans. It was a beautiful thing, to her, to see them still so hopeful, full of perseverance where others would have surely given up. Merrill's version of what had occurred was limited to the fact that Hawke had ensured she remain hidden for fear the Templars would find her. '_And yet I sense she is in love with one, and not just any Templar,_' Surana mused at the slight blush coloring the Dalish's cheek when she spoke of Carver. In a way, it reminded her of Alistair and the forbidden love they had hoped to keep despite Anora's distaste for the King—but it was not to be, and the Elf remained at her Warden Post, only seeing her love sparingly in between. She had done so well in this regard, never breaking or cracking except a few times in front of Anders. But much time had passed since then and she could feel the taint in her body calling for her, her mind and body knowing that it would eventually be time to leave the earthly plains and joint he Maker. '_That I could…spend one more day with you, Alistair, my love, before all Thedas is destroyed…_'

"Surana?"

She snapped from her reverie, nodding to Merrill as if she had never been lost in thought. "Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I was simply pondering whether it is wise to speak the Carver now or later. Perhaps…you should all rest for the night. Today, it seems, has taken much from this party. Go, rest my friend. Tomorrow only hold more work and treachery." The Hero watched as Merrill disappeared back into the darkness only to emerge by the firelight and take a seat next to the former Templar, immediately engaging in conversation with him. A ghost of a smile placed her lips at this view, her fingers worrying the edges of her enchanted mage's robe until she felt his presence next to her.

"My lady, it seems you have become quite the silver tongued enchantress."

She chuckled. "Zevran, how long have you been on their trail?"

"Since they arrived here, at least a few weeks time, as you have requested."

"Do they know?"

The former Crow Assassin shook his head. "Not one. It is surprising to me that Hawke has not caught on. Surely someone as formidable as her would have sensed me."

"She is not herself, my dear elf, not lately." She glanced at him from the side. "Of course, upon your meeting in Sundermount I assume you have gathered more news regarding the information you retrieved?" He affirmed this; she looked thoughtful again. "I believe their next planned stop was Redcliffe and I believe it should remain as such. I can certainly stop to speak to Arl Eamon, see if Bann Teagan and Alistair have returned from their journey. Hiding from his has proven…not quite as difficult as I suspected. Then again…Alistair was never good at the scouting aspect as you have been, my trusted friend."

Zevran bowed dramatically to which Surana rolled her eyes. "My lady, I live to serve."

"Enough. Now go, scout and find the rogue, Isabela and see to it that she is not harmed while out in the outskirts of Lothering. You know as well as I do what lurks between here and the forest. But be careful. I suspect that the Elven Warrior, Fenris, will be watching her as well. Do not been seen."

A moment later the assassin was gone almost as quietly as he'd come. If she had been any other person she may not have sensed him coming at all; but experience and years of working closely with the Antivan assassin had taught her many things. Curious, she wondered if Hawke was available again but when she looked behind her she could see Anders approaching his fellow mage, steps tentative and hesitant, almost frightened. Sighing, the Hero decided it was best to retire for the evening or at least keep an eye on the rest of their companions. This was a conversation Hawke and Anders needed to have by themselves, uninterrupted.

Hawke gave him a blank stare in reply. "What?"

He bristled in annoyance despite being somewhat uncertain. "Hawke we…we need to talk about something important."

"More lies, Anders?" She spat back though her tone lacked its usual special reserve of venom held only for him. She appeared tired, worn, and destitute.

He pressed further despite all this. "No, no lies, Hawke. We must speak about…" dare he say it, "us."

She blanched, face paling at his words. "Is there even an us? It has not felt that way in so very long."

He nodded. "Yes…there always has been and we need to speak of it now."

Nodding in agreement, she followed his lead to the outskirts of the clearing where they would receive enough privacy but not far enough that they would be ambushed. In fact, she could see Isabela dancing around the campfire with Merrill, and Fenris scouting—though it looked suspiciously like he was spying. When they finally came to pause, the rebel mage rounded on her, cinnamon eyes suddenly dark, intense and hardened. She took a hesitant step back, surprise weaving its way through her at his expression. She wanted to reach for her mages staff, slight fear lacing its way up her spine when he began to advance on her but when he noticed the uncertainty in her eyes he stopped.

"Hawke…I spoke to the Hero. She has provided me with some…pertinent information. I think it's best we have this conversation before we take the next step in our journey." He decided to tread carefully. "Before we…make the journey to Redcliffe…we must discuss what happened on the Wounded Coast. It cannot be avoided any longer…"

She cringed at the thought of no longer avoiding the one topic she couldn't wrap her head around, the one thing she didn't understand and couldn't seem to solve. Sighing, she gestured for him to continue. "Yes…you are right, Anders. I don't know what to say though. What explanation do you have for what happened?"

"There…may be a connection between you, Justice and the Fade. My body has…never reacted to any other mage this way. I don't know what else it could be…perhaps my feelings…" He trailed off in embarrassment at speaking about it all. It had seemed like such a taboo topic that he wasn't sure it was okay to even mention it in front of her. She made no outwards signs of stopping him so he kept on talking. "Surana and I have…surmised that it could possibly the connection you and I have…made. It is something Vengeance does not wish us to continue and the energy could have very well been a warning for us to…stop."

Eyes widening for a mere moment, Hawke could barely formulate a proper sentence. Seconds later it was something entirely different when her eyebrows knitted together, eyes narrowed in anger. "That spirit has no right to keep us apart! This is as much his fault as it is yours, if not more! I do believe everything that has happened has caused enough suffering for more than just us!"

Sighing, he expressed his agreement. "Yes, I agree, Hawke but I cannot stop Vengeance from continuing with such warnings, nor can I completely control myself anymore—it has gotten worse." Her lips tightened as she crossed her arms and turned away. He reached out tentatively; surprised when his hand touched her forearm and she did not shrug it off. "You know this Hawke…and I do not wish to hurt you…never. I need you to allow Surana to keep an eye on me. Vengeance would have your blood. And provoking him will only end in bloodshed and one of us going to the Maker." She still said nothing and Anders pushed himself towards her, hands turning her to face him. He was startled, and heartbroken, to find tears trailing down her cheeks, the first admissions of sadness she'd displayed in what seemed like forever. He couldn't stop himself, didn't care if she tried to push him away, and wasn't concerned with what Vengeance thought, not in that moment. Anders quickly drew her to him, wrapping his arms around her slightly trembling form as he felt her chest contract with the beginnings of sobs though none came out. He smoothed her hair with his hand, running his fingers through her hair in comfort. "Hawke…please, my love…do not cry. We will get through this. And I will be here for as long as you want, as long as you allow. Please…I promise I will atone for what I have done. But please…do not give up hope, not yet."

Hawke felt him kiss the top of her head and felt her heart ache at the gesture, wanting nothing more than to return his embrace; but her eyes hardened. Seconds later she had shrugged him away though his hands still remained planted on her forearms, cinnamon brown eyes searching hers for a reason why she'd stepped out of his arms. When she granted him a semi-cold stare Anders hands fell back to his sides but he did not back away. She knew he was awaiting her answer, any kind of sign to let him know her decision. Sighing, she couldn't find it in herself to completely leave him in such a state. Reaching out, he let her fingers gently brush his cheek in a reassuring, comforting way that signified that she was still with him but they could be no closer. "Anders…" He leaned into her touch, face pained but understanding the distance and accepting what she did offer. "I have not given up hope. You will remain until your sins have been atoned for—Surana will watch over you. I will…we should remain apart until this issue has been solved. I…must go."

He watched as she turned on her heels and began walking back towards camp, met shortly by Fenris as she rounded the corner where he was scouting. Anders let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, relief and resentment flooding him at her words. Her actions showed that she was still with him but her words cut him deep, her expression that they remain apart hurting to his core. Of course this had originally been his idea and she had, clearly, adapted to it as necessary. Now, he regretted it more than anything. With a deep, heavy hearted sigh, he made his way back towards Surana who was now at the camp though she was off to the side looking around as if expecting something. When she saw him approaching she motioned for him to join her. With downcast eyes, he did and in the silence, they remained there staring out of the clearing for the rest of the night.

* * *

The next morning found Hawke up relatively early with the rest of their party still snoozing away. But there was no sign of the Hero or Anders. Raising a brow, she began a small trek to the clearing and suddenly found the Hero and Anders standing there as they had been the night before, neither looking as though they'd had any rest. Anders looked about as haggard as Surana, his eyes contoured with dark circles while the Elven mage's hair still appeared dreadfully unkempt. It wasn't as though any of them would be winning any beauty awards and such but the two Grey Wardens before her seemed rather worse for the wear. When Surana finally turned to her Hawke nodded.

"I believe we should begin the journey to Redcliffe now. I believe everyone should be adequately rested and ready after breakfast."

Surana inclined her head. "Are you worried, Champion?"

Hawke felt her cheeks flush when she glanced over to Anders who yawned rather quietly. "I…simply wondered if you're feeling well."

The Elf chuckled. "It is merely the intensity of being a Grey Warden. I am afraid I cannot disclose it or explain it to you, Hawke. Please, have everyone fill themselves with whatever game you have and make haste. We should start towards Redcliffe soon lest we encounter any unsavory factors on the way."

Truth be told the entire trek to Redcliffe was, more or less, uneventful. It was generally quiet with occasional banter exchanged between certain companions but it was more playful and Hawke didn't feel any need to worry. In the very back of the group she could feel the magical waves rolling off of Surana and Anders, healing waves and heavily, thick, powerful arcane waves from the Warden Commander. While Hawke knew she was a spirit healer, it had been some time since she'd encountered such a powerful Arcane mage. The Dalish Elf's aura proved far more formidable than most she'd encountered, even more so than the first enchanter in Kirkwall. Orsino was extremely powerful but he did not command the way Surana did; her mere presence was something to be reckoned with, magic aside. The calm she exuded was only compromised by the intensity of her magical auras. Hawke felt slightly uncomfortable as she had yet to see the full extent of the Warden Commander's powers and magical abilities. Anders didn't seem too perturbed but the Champion attributed this to their companionship. It made sense to her now, after seeing the other female deal with Vengeance, why Anders cowered before her, why the Spirit had been absence since her appearance. Anders seemed far more lucid for longer periods of time and for this, Hawke was thankful.

As it was she didn't even know where she was going, simply heading in the designated correct direction with her feet carrying her, almost as if she was on autopilot. Part of her was far too busy mulling over everything that had happened in the past day while the other part of her was so exhausted she wanted nothing more than to collapse on the spot. She could vaguely hear Merrill and Carver conversing and her brother's gentle, affectionate tone continued to irk her in ways she didn't quite care to figure out. Isabela was harassing Fenris, constantly make lewd jokes and she surmised that the Elven warrior was wise to it and enjoying it, though he continued to act as though he was aggravated. Varric was walking next to her, content to hum to Bianca while they traveled through the dewy, chilly morning air and to leave Hawke to her musings. She didn't hear much coming from Donnic and Aveline, which she decided was a good thing since, at the very least, it meant their resident siren and former captain of the guard weren't trying to kill each other—yet. Rubbing her temples, the female mage kept her steady pace to match the dwarf's next to her, seriously considering just falling to her feet on the spot. Every part of her body ached from a restless slumber plagued with demons of the fade, images of the dead littering the streets of Kirkwall and the destruction of Lothering. She had tried, in vain it seemed, to push the thoughts of both her lost homes out of her wayward wandering mind but failed miserably as the flash blacks rocked her to the core.

Her head hurt something fierce, eyes burning with a slew of unshed tears and frustrated desires to slay all those who had taken away her precious family, for tearing apart everything she held dear. Suddenly the memory of Leandra's mutilated, horrifically altered body sprung fresh to her thoughts and Hawke actually tripped on a branch that she had not sensed. Varric paused briefly, his hand steadying her.

"Hawke?"

"Varric I…it's nothing. Let us continue," she replied. He gave her a skeptical look to which she scowled. "Later, dwarf. I do not wish to discuss it now."

At this moment she heard more than saw Fenris coming up to flank her right, his armor clanking though his footsteps remained light. He was next to her in seconds, Isabela sidling up as well, and shooting her a questioning look. "Are you alright?"

"Fenris, I am fine."

"You're such an awful liar, Sweet Thing."

She glared at Isabela."Wench, I swear…"

Isabela grinned at her, all teeth, as she grabbed Hawke's hands and spun her away from the others, Fenris' protests falling on deaf ears as the pirate queen whisked her away from the rest of the group. The dark skinned beauty laughed as she began to force Hawke to dance around in the cool morning air, almost as if she was a demon possessing her. It only took a few seconds for Hawke to fall into the soothing, seductive song of the Siren before her. Beginning to sway as Isabela continued to hum the forbidden sounding tune through her painted lips, dark brown eyes captivating her. Hawke attributed this to the fact that the Siren was a cunning rogue not so different from Varric though Isabela's womanly wiles helped her score more than her fair share of victims. Somehow the glint in the pirate queen's eyes did not escape the Champion and she couldn't help but laugh when Isabela twirled her as if they were dancing to a couples song, very much how she had imagined herself dancing with Anders on the eve of some special occasion. The lyrics flowed from Isabela's lips, a sweet but sad song that spoke of her experience and tales at the sea, the travels of life as a pirate queen, the one desired by many and given to none.

"_My heart is pierced by Cupid__, __I disdain all glittering gold__, __there is nothing can console me__, __but my jolly sailor bold."_ Isabela's voice was like that of a desire demon, the sound almost putting Hawke to sleep as much as it seemed to be luring Fenris closer and closer against his own accord. _"His hair it hangs in ringlets__, h__is eyes as black as coal__, m__y happiness attend him__, w__herever he may go."* _The bronze skinned woman smiled luridly at Hawke. "Come on then, Sweet Thing…sing with me. It's a very easy tune. Kitten, join us!"

Without fail, Hawke complied, somewhat surprised when Merrill joined in as well, Carver forgotten as she twirled in a graceful, Elven fashion about Isabela and Hawke themselves. Merrill's grace was something to awe, her movements lithe, quick and rivaling Isabela's own roguish grace. It almost made the Champions head swim with fever and want of a place to lie down, her eyes feeling heavy all of a sudden. Everything remained forgotten in that instant, her woes, her sorrows, her worries—everything. It was only moments later when she snapped back into reality at the sound of a guard did she realize they were standing at the gates of Redcliffe with Surana in front looking authoritative. Hawke shot a glance at her two companions, noting the smirk of satisfaction on Isabela's lips and the happy calm that blanketed Merrill's own features, her big, green doe eyes wide with wonder. Fenris was standing stiffly between the Pirate and Hawke, one hand in a fist while the other looked antsy to grab his sword. Carver was standing mere inches behind Merrill, his eyes showing relief though he would not look at his sister. Varric was whistling a cheery tune behind them, all the while observing Surana and Anders from Hawke's right side. She knew more than saw Aveline and Donnic in the very back, the red haired woman ever the vanguard and her feverish protector. Sighing, Hawke brought her attention back to the scene before her where the guards were openly interrogating the Grey Warden Commander, and rudely at that.

However, the elf didn't seem to mind at all, her tone serious but firm. It was moments before they all heard a shout and saw a figure running towards them.

"Mistress Surana!"

The elf in question turned with a smile evident on her face. "Hello, Conner. Is your father here? It seems the guards do not wish to let us pass."

The young boy in question pushed his way through the guards, jostling them without a care. "It is good to see you again. Mother and Father will be alerted of your presence shortly." He turned to the guards with annoyance while they straightened themselves. "Go tell mother and father that the Grey Warden Commander has arrived."

"Yes, young sir," one guard replied quickly and scampered off to inform their lord.

The remaining guard opened the gates to allow them inside. Hawke felt her insides churn as she glanced over to see Isabela grab Fenris and practically drag him inside behind Merrill and Carver who walked in front of her to follow the Hero's lead as the mage made her way inside ahead of all. Varric shouldered Bianca and proceeded behind them, shaking his head the whole time while Aveline and Donnic marched in, glad for the reprieve. It was then that Hawke realized she was still outside the gate, her brow quizzical until she felt someone staring at her. She looked into the warm brown eyes of the dual mage before her, his eyes, Anders' eyes. She hesitated when he motioned for them to enter, his had outstretched towards her in a welcoming gesture, a tentative uncertain sign. His lips were quirked in fear, in sadness at what her answer would be. Hawke's eyes widened at this as something pulled her forward towards him, the electricity humming in her veins, soothing, soft, full of promise as it had been on the beach. Her hand paused for a mere second before she slipped it in between his. Anders gave her a weak smile as he began to lead them up the path that led to Redcliffe Village, his steps careful, slow and unsure. Hawke could feel the magic thrumming from his palm into hers, and vise versa and realized, in that moment, that despite Vengeance's warnings, she was not going anywhere. She was returned to the present when she heard him speak.

"Welcome to Redcliffe, Champion of Kirkwall."

* * *

_*My Jolly Sailor Bold - Song referenced from Pirates of the Caribbean. All credit goes to the proper people - not me!_

_(Meh, it was OKAY. I really like the interactions between Hawke and Isabela as I've been replaying. God…I love Isabela. She'd be so awesome to have around. So it's time to start the planning on how to find the Darkspawn and to get a handle on this Templar/Mage War! Time to find Morrigan, Leiliana, Cassandra, etc. I like how the Hero is being very elusice with her "Man" and all secretive with the rest of her Wardens. She's a sneaky, wise one. R&R, or don't. Again…My deepest thanks to those who still read and review. My deepest apologies to those who no longer do because of my procrastination and other reasons. Regardless, I really, truly appreciate it. Thank you! I *heart* you all! Time to work on some other projects!)_

_~Sadistickunais_


	9. Chapter 9

Note to Disclaimers: I do not and never will own Dragon Age: Origins, Awakening, or Dragon Age 2, etc. All characters are the property of BioWare, etc, and this is NOT for profit.

A/N: Chapter 9, after an eternity! The pairing remains FemHawke (mage)/Anders. The other big character pairing is Isabela/Fenris because I love Isabela—I would so take Isabela with me wherever I traveled! Alright, this is going to, hopefully, be a major turning point. Now that they're at the Circle Tower, the story is going to start quickening a pace with battle scenes (which I such at, but I'll do my best) and the journey moving on. With that said…you know the drill: you like it, you read. You don't well…yeah, you get it. Constructive Criticism is welcome. Thanks.

'_Thought' & Flashbacks & Singing_

"**Justice"**

"Speaking"

Everything else

* * *

**Praevâricâtor (Chapter 9)**

It was little to no surprise that Bann Teagan and Alistair had yet to return to Redcliffe for good. While they had, according to Arl Eamon, stopped there for a brief reprieve it was relayed to Surana that Alistair had resumed his arduous and hurried search for the Warden Commander. Shaking her head, the elf in question leaned back in her chair before the warm fireplace. She was alone in the room save for Anders who was quietly sitting across from her in his own chair, look pensive and posture tight as if keeping a firm hold on Vengeance. The remainder of their group had exited the main hall in favor of a good night's rest in beds alike, as well as other amusements in their well needed break from trekking along the Thedan coasts. Surana had no real clue as to the whereabouts of the infamous Champion but she doubted that it was necessary to find out either. There were no apparent dangers nor were there any suspicious characters traveling about near Redcliffe. The Arl's military could fend off anyone lurking about the castle walls or countryside and easily dispatch any thieves or bandits.

With a heavy sigh she brought her gaze to the renegade mage whose physical appearance was gaunt and ragged, which she was sure wasn't all a result of the journey from Kirkwall. Raising a suspicious brow, she leaned towards him. Sensing this, Anders' eyes darted towards her, looking wild and pensive. Surana smiled wearily. "Anders…Vengeance must sense my intentions for you to be so alert without 3 days worth of sleep in you."

The mage averted his eyes back to the fire with a relaxed gaze. "He does not approve of your presence, if you must know, Commander."

An unladylike snort left her lips. "That I should care of his opinions is something he must only dream about. That spirit better watch himself or I will smite him."

"You may end up smiting me in the process, my friend."

Surana chuckled. "As much as I hate to say it, you are in need of a good smiting given your past behaviors. It only seems appropriate that I do it for you as well."

Cringing at the thought of her power, Anders nodded but leaned further away from her until his back was practically molded to the chair upon which he sat. The hall was relatively quiet save for their own conversation and the crackling fire but neither one felt compelled to discuss the mabari in the room, so to speak. Sighing, Surana placed her elbows on her knees and eyed Anders wearily. They both knew what she was about to say, what she was about to announce and neither wanted to address it. It had been a long time since he had thought about it and even longer for both of them to want to acknowledge it.

"Anders…"

"Yes?"

"When you and Justice made this contract…what were your original feelings and thoughts?" Surana appeared to be contemplating his every reaction.

Anders bristled at this though he wasn't sure if it was him or Vengeance who was really bothered by the question. "Truth be told, Commander…I had an extreme hatred for the Templars and their mistreatment of Mages. I do believe that my feelings and thoughts warped the sense of Justice that has now become Vengeance. My very own feelings…my very own thoughts…" he glanced briefly at his hands as if there was real blood on them at that moment. "They have destroyed the benevolence of Justice, corrupted it. I have…ruined a friend. I am…paying for my selfishness and my sins. I will not rest until I have repaid my debt to so many innocent lives."

"I will hold you to these words, my friend; even if it means your end. I will do what I now know Hawke cannot," she supplied in a clipped, firm tone that had the rebel mage nod, offering a weak smile of thanks. "Anders." The elf placed a gentle comforting hand on his arm, an understanding smile on her face. "I do this…because I care about you, and our friendship. If you should not make it to the Deep Roads for a glorious end…I will be sure you have, at the very least, a justified one."

"Commander…"

"I do this, Anders; I make this promise for you. I cannot let you continue to live if Vengeance cannot be removed, or assuaged. I make this promise to you, and to the Champion, to save you. As your commander I refuse to allow you to fall as another being and not as the Anders I remember. If that be selfish I will take such consequences, for I am your Commander. If that I could fulfill my own selfish desires…then I could not hold such a title or the responsibilities that accompany it." She stood suddenly and cupped his face in her small, calloused hands, gently brushing her lips against his forehead. "My very dearest Anders…I will save you, if not for you, then for her."

The tears threatened to fall from his cinnamon colored eyes and Anders felt his world crumbling at the thought of no future with his beloved. When he finally brought his watery gaze to hers he could see the pain and heartache of her own soul reflecting back at him. He knew they were kindred souls with the same pain though through different circumstances. She held back her own tears at the thought of a love that was never to be, at the thought of her heart breaking over and over again from denial after denial of her deepest wants and desires. Alistair, their king, would never be hers—it could not be. And while her love for him, and his for her would not disappear they could not be anything more than fellow Grey Wardens. Anders watched, somewhat astonished and hurt, when one tear slipped past her tired eyelids, the pristine droplet traveling agonizingly slow on the surface of her dirtied cheek. He felt for his Commander—all his dreams revolved around Hawke, around a woman who refused to let him have her until he paid for his mistakes. In that moment, they both understood the path their lives had taken, whether by choice or not. The path and life of a Grey Warden was not without its many pains and hardships; personal wants and needs were of no consequence when it came to the duties of the Wardens. An oath was an oath and Surana knew that she, personally, would die for it regardless of love. Duncan had taught both she and Alistair this.

And while Anders did not know the former Warden Commander personally, he had heard great stories and tales of his valiancy, his courage, his compassion and understanding of the duties the Grey Warden position entailed. He had even seen him at the Circle recruiting mages for the Grey Wardens but did not know that Surana, one of the many elven mages there, would be chosen. It seemed as though misfortune was high on their list and it would be no better as time passed. With a heavy sigh Surana removed herself from Anders, wiping the stray tear away before whirling around to make her way into her quarters; Anders remained in his seat. She paused momentarily by the door to offer him a frown, one that demonstrated the stress about to fall upon them.

"Anders?"

"Yes?"

"If this fight should kill us—and it most likely will despite our prayers to the Maker—do not forget to at least, just once, show her how much you love her." She turned her back to him again but her words were stark in the quiet of the room. "Do not let her slip through your fingers…it will be your biggest regret."

In the quiet of her own room Surana sat on her bed, the tears burning her tired eyelids to the point where she was sure she could no longer hold them back. And so in the quiet of her room she let them fall, one by one, down her dirtied face. Her body felt weak and weary, her heart broken and empty. She knew where Alistair currently was thanks to Zevran. Now that she was with the Champion she saw fit to send her loyal companion elsewhere, preferably to keep an eye on her semi-catastrophic and clueless lover. In her mind's eye, if she herself could not protect him then she would send someone who could at least try, and at least keep watch over him. Her duty as Warden Commander, technically, did not allow for the meddling in the affairs of others, especially those not directly affected by the Darkspawn. Political and religious warfare was not her concern. However, now that the Darkspawn were suddenly resurfacing and for unknown reasons it was her duty to find out the reasons why. In the midst of all this it would be wise, she'd decided, to enlist the help of the Champion and her companions. She knew, eventually, she would have to confront Leiliana and Cassandra but she wanted to hold that off until she found out more information. The last person she would see was the first person she always wanted to see.

'_Alistair…do you think of me as often as I think of you, my love?_' She stared out the window, having blown out the candle in her room upon entering it. She could distinctly remember his bumbling words at the campfire, how he stumbled and awkwardly confessed his love to her. The mere thought made a smile grace her chapped lips, a warm feeling filling her for the briefest moment before dying out to leave a coldness she'd become accustomed to. Yet her mind was constantly filled with thoughts of him, of them, of what had been and what would not be. She savored the few moments they crossed paths and their schedule permitted. In a way, they were both forced to choose duty over love. It was something she felt Hawke was aware of though she may not have understood it to the extent Surana now did. Nevertheless, she felt they had a bond because of this. Anders and Alistair had done what they had to. Hawke and Surana had done the same. The outcomes were less than desirable but for a Grey Warden duty came first; for Hawke, her loyalty to innocents lost was above all things.

She was still mulling over this idea when there was a soft knock on her door, barely audible by most standards but thanks to her sharpened elven senses she did hear it. Sighing, she quickly wiped her tears as best as possible and walked over to answer it. To her surprise she found Hawke on the other side, shifting from foot to foot. "Yes? To what do I owe the pleasure, Champion?"

"Hawke, please, Hero."

"Then you must call me Surana. Formalities have never sat well with my companions, previous and current," came her steady reply. She allowed Hawke into her room, closing the door behind her before they both took a seat on her comfortable bed. Arl Eamon spared no expense in making his abode livable as well as comfortable. "What brings you here so late, Hawke? Surely you need some rest."

"As do you, Surana," she answered with a sleepy smile. "I can see the worry etched onto your face." Before the elf could say anything Hawke raised a hand to stop her. "Please, listen to me this once. I only came to discuss how you're feeling about…the King."

Surana blanched, paling a bit at the inquiry. While it was true she did miss him terribly she had hardly ever spoken to anyone about it. Truth be told no one ever bothered to ask her either; she was used to remaining emotionless and vague when it came to her love. She was the Warden Commander, first and foremost. "I…it is…not something you should concern yourself with, Hawke. At such a late hour it would be best if you rested. Such matters are trivial in the bigger scheme of things."

Hawke rolled her eyes in a way that very much reminded Surana of her times and life in the Circle followed, shortly thereafter, by her time on the road as a Warden. "Look, I may not be all knowing or wise or even mature in your eyes. But I know this. You are hurting, and I don't know the last time you shared anything about a love you gave up. You do love the king, don't you?" When Surana paled ever further Hawke knew she had hit a sore spot. "I'm not saying tell me all your secrets. I respect you far too much to push in such a way, especially since we only just met. But as a woman, one who is in a similar situation…I would only extend my ear to listen if you should like. Regardless of the fact that you're the Warden Commander…you are, firstly, a woman. And you have feelings. Elves, no race really, are exempt from such things."

Allowing her shoulders to fall just a bit, Surana nodded. "It…it has been so very long since anyone dared to ask about such a topic. You must understand Hawke…a woman in my position—in your position—cannot afford to let feelings get in the way. My duty is the most important thing in my life now. As a Warden, we take a lifelong oath, even when life is short for us, we mustn't stray from our responsibilities. My love for the King is…of little consequence when the Darkspawn run rampant. In order to keep Ferelden safe…another Blight cannot be permitted. If I must die for this, then I must die for it."

"I wish I had your dedication," Hawke supplied with a frown. "I must admit…I am afraid to make such a sacrifice though I know to end this war…I most likely will not survive."

"Such a concept is hard to accept but I will die long before you, should you survive this," Surana answered genuinely. "I have vowed to do all in my power to keep you safe. The world…all of Thedas, needs someone like you, Hawke. It needs a leader; the Mages need you."

For not knowing the Hero so well Hawke certainly felt very comfortable around her. As a result she threw her hands in the air in frustration. "You sound just like Anders, so ready to die for a place that does not even care for you."

The elf laughed, a weary but amused and musical sound that was surprisingly pleasant to Hawke's tired ears. "Oh, Hawke, Anders and I are similar in this regard due to the fact that being a Warden requires a separation from caring about oneself as opposed to the greater good." Hawke scowled at her and Surana let out another laugh. "It may seem like a blind sense of duty but please understand, dear Champion, I do this because I would see the people of Ferelden free of this terror, and that our King should live." She glanced away suddenly, the air around them becoming solemn. "We lost a King once…I would see to it that we do not lose our current one as well."

"You must really love King Alistair."

Nodding slowly, the elf let a small smile grace her lips. "Yes, I…would do what I could, what I eventually must, to see him survive this and keep his throne even after I perish." Hawke watched as Surana's hand slipped into the folds of her robes by her chest. The younger woman didn't have to see to know that the Hero was holding something close to her heart. "I may not be able to be with him but I know that poor, clueless adorable man loves me. And I him. Alistair is…unlike any King Ferelden has ever had. I can say this with knowledge and experience."

Hawke could hear the adoration and feeling in Surana's words and suddenly her thoughts drifted to an image of Anders, striking, dangerously handsome in his deep, Prussian blue mages robes. It made a jolt shoot through her spine that left her reeling and slightly unsettled. She was sure it went unnoticed until she looked up from her hands and found Surana observing her intently.

"What?"

"It would seem that your connection to Anders goes far deeper than even you could have imagined. For him to do such a thing…for this new development to have hindered you both in such a manner; it seems that this connection is not just Fade based."

Hawke opened her mouth, struggling for words. "I don't understand your meaning."

Surana stood quickly and went to stand by the window, fingers rubbing her chin in thoughtfulness. "I would venture to think that your connection to him is interfering heavily with his bond to Vengeance. It is almost as if your very presence disrupts their agreement to the extent that he finds you a nuisance."

"He would have me killed, and would have killed me already in all my foolishness if not for Anders…feelings," the young woman replied, her voice low. "I have behaved most irrationally when it comes to Anders. I cannot control it no matter how hard I try."

"When one is in love that does tend to happen. At times we are foolish in our decisions because the heart cannot be dictated or swayed by most logic. While it may work for some time, it will not work forever." Surana leaned her head against the window pane. "It is time, Hawke, for us both to take a rest."

The younger woman nodded and began to exit the room when she ran into a figure on the other side. Before them both stood Arl Eamon with Conner at his side, smiling jovially. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visiting this evening, Eamon?"

Hawke took a cautious step back into Surana's room and allowed for the Arl and his son to enter. A strikingly strong but calm man, Arl Eamon granted them both a kind smile. "Commander, yes, I have come with news of Alistair."

"The King?" the words slipped from Hawke's mouth, aghast.

Surana's brow wrinkled. "Yes…what news have you?"

"Conner?"

Both the Champion and the Hero brought their attention to the young man standing in front of them. Conner coughed for a moment. "Mistress Surana, I was scouting by the outer edges of Redcliffe Village when I discovered a man following the King's trail. I did not approach him but he seemed weary, and as though he knew my presence."

"Zevran."

Conner nodded. "Yes, the Antivan Crow Assassin who traveled with you. But there was yet another man with him, a man with long black hair and he also carried a crossbow like Zevran. I do not remember father mentioning him as a part of Alistair's watch party. It seemed best to warn you as soon as you returned here."

"A crossbow you say?" She smiled. "Thank you for this information, Conner. I would imagine that it was Nathaniel Howe. It would seem he was able to join with Zevran as I requested." She turned to Arl Eamon. "It seems that Nathaniel joining Zevran has confirmed my belief that the Darkspawn are on the move, no doubt exploiting whatever weaknesses they have found since this war began."

"Yes," Eamon replied while narrowing his eyes. "And it would seem that First Enchanter Irving has requested your presence at the Circle much sooner than either I or Alistair expected. While he has managed to keep it safe and the mages residing there remain loyal to his words, I fear we cannot delay the inevitable too much longer by his word alone. The mages there will be looking for the one who freed them," his eyes traveled to Hawke, his brow furrowed in worry. "And the one who has thrown Thedas into chaos and them into a war they did not wish for."

Hawke felt a hot blush of embarrassment rise to the roots of her hair, her fists clenched angrily. "I assure you sir—"

He raised a hand. "And I assure you, Champion, that your valor will captivate them very much like the Commander's did. However, I would be most unfair, and quite the liar, if I did not say that their respect will need to be commanded. What Anders has done will certainly not sit well with some though it might encourage others—the few older mages that are left will probably remember him as well. I only hope that you and Surana are able to quell the horrible atrocities before too many lives are lost."

With that said the Arl departed her room and Surana, once again, fell back to her bed in deep thought. Hawke joined her quickly with an eagerness neither had really expected. "It seems, Hawke, we will not be resting as much as I had hoped. I need to find Anders. Would you please find Merrill for me? I need every mage in this room within a few minutes."

Seconds later Merrill burst through the door with Anders trailing apprehensively behind her. "Lethallan! What is it?"

"Commander?" Anders looked tired.

Surana nodded. "We leave for the docks of Lake Calenhad in the morning. I am most sorry for our stay being so short but I need to speak with First Enchanter Irving and Hawke must accompany me. As mages—Blood Mage or Spirit-possessed matters not—I need you there."

Anders paused at this. "You're sure? The First Enchanter will be most surprised and, if I may say, most unnerved to see me there now after…all this time. He believes me dead. And then there's…Vengeance."

"I will explain all to him once we arrive. I have something extremely important to speak to him about in regards to…Hawke. You understand." The statement was made without room for rebuttal or refusal. Anders' shoulders sagged and he nodded his assent while Merrill quickly clapped her hands. "Merrill, you will need to refrain from any usage of Blood Magic around the First Enchanter, am I understood? Irving will not take kindly to such, elven or otherwise, considering this is what killed so many of our mages during the Blight."

The blood mage nodded. "Yes, Lethallan, I will heed your words."

Hawke bit her lip. "Surana…what will the rest of the party do? I can't say that I believe Fenris will be okay with this…as he despises mages."

"The rest of the party can certainly remain at the Circle's entrance or wander outside its walls as they please. I only ask that they do not harm any of the residents nor do they cause unnecessary trouble. As for your brother, Carver…I would ask that he refrain from causing any incidents with these particular Circle Mages. Though they may not take too kindly to him being a Templar I would hope that he can control himself. These are freed mages and will not take too kindly to have any Templars attempt to…use the Order. Is this understood?"

The Champion nodded. "Yes, I will speak to him personally regarding the matter. And the rest of my party. Please, if you'll excuse me. Merrill, I believe your influence could help, if you don't mind, Surana. Come on, Merrill."

With that said the Dalish elf waved farewell to the Hero and made her way towards the others rooms with Hawke. Anders sighed at the scene of Hawke barely acknowledging him. Once she was sure they were gone Surana patted the space next to her for Anders to sit down, which he gladly did with a clear expression of exhaustion. He was beyond the point where sleep seemed to claim him anymore. When he looked at his companion she too seemed weary and forlorn. "Surana…you have been thinking of him again?"

"Hawke came in to speak to me about it. Anders…it has been so very long since I was able to let myself feel…anything let alone acknowledge the fact that we will never have a life together. Love is but a sacrifice in the wake of duty and I would see that his role as King is fulfilled until it is time to answer The Call."

"That makes two of us," he whispered back.

She placed her hand over his in a comforting gesture. "It seems that our time with our loved ones grows shorter by every minute. Tell me, my friend, do you intend to remain with Hawke after this? Have you yet spoken to her about the Warden's Call?"

"I have the distinct feeling we will be dying together, though perhaps not as romantically as in the tales of old." He let out a sigh. "Honestly, all I think about, now that the world has been thrown into chaos, is taking Hawke into my arms and holding her until I absolutely have to let go. And I always wish that I will never have to." He paused again. "And I have not mentioned anything about the Deep Roads. It weighs on my mind."

With a deep, elongated and heartfelt sigh the elven mage stood to look out her window again, noting how the stars were sparkling in the darkened sky with all their might. A piece of her heart felt like it died every time she thought of the stars and their freedom. She hoped Hawke could yet fix as much of this as she could before it was time to go into the Deep Roads. Turning to Anders, she pointed to the bed. "Get some rest Anders. I will stand watch first." He seemed reluctant to agree but eventually he let whatever semblance of sleep he could attain ease itself into his worn body. With a forlorn smile Surana turned her back to him. She'd accepted that her life would never be easy once she'd gone through the Warden Ritual but she had, foolishly, thought there would be plenty of time once the Blight was over. And time was what they didn't have any more.

Time was never something she had felt so strongly about until now.

* * *

Hawke felt her eyelids burning again though whether with unshed tears or anxiety regarding their impending journey to the Circle of Magi, she wasn't sure. As it was she happened to be completely unprepared for a lecture on behavior at the Circle for her companions. She just knew Fenris wouldn't take any of it lightly since he was still very much in hate with all mages—save for her. Merrill seemed content to walk silently next to her with a nervousness she didn't quite understand but was unwilling, at the moment, to inquire about with such a tired mind. She was sure Aveline and Donnic would present no problems and, if she was lucky, Carver would take it upon himself to entertain Merrill. Isabela, on the other hand, she knew she would need by her side for support and general liveliness. Sighing, she decided to leave Merrill with Carver and make her way towards Isabela's quarters with a hope that the Pirate Queen wasn't with any sort of sordid company. '_Or Fenris on his back_,' she mused. But Merrill asked to remain with her. When she knocked on the closed door she was greeted with an uncharacteristic squeal and what sounded like someone cursing. _'Dammit…bad timing, I guess,'_ she thought when the door opened just a crack to reveal Isabela's disheveled hair.

"Oh, Hawke, fancy seeing you at this time. What can I do you f—I mean what do you need, Sweet thing?"

Hawke rolled her eyes but kept her voice low. "Isabela, I know Fenris is in there so why don't you two clean up and join me in the dining hall in about a half hour? I need to discuss something with everyone."

The door closed and she began to make her way back to the main hall, only stopping for a moment to drop of Merrill at her room before continuing her trek. She was exhausted, her body needed rest and she needed food so badly it hurt. She had spent enough time in the Hero's company during the current evening that she felt like, despite whatever differences they had, she knew Surana now on a personal level. She may not know her like Anders but she felt a kinsman ship with her that lacked heavily with her other companions, save for Anders himself. It was nice, she thought, to have someone to speak to about a mutual dilemma. Shaking her head, Hawke entered the dining area where there was still a servant or two cleaning. Feeling like she was intruding she made to leave quickly so they could continue her work but she was stopped shortly by one of them.

"Messere, please, come in and sit. Would you like anything to eat?" Hawke couldn't deny the rumble of her stomach; the servant eyed her. Apparently they had heard it as well and the servant extended a hand towards the Champion. "Please, Messere, sit. We will bring you something to eat. The Arl would be most offended if you did not partake in something to soothe that rumbling stomach of yours."

Nodding in order to not offend the servant herself, she decided to take a seat and indulge in something to eat. It had been so long since she had eaten anything of real substance let alone in a lavish dining hall with servants and food readily available. After all, they were staying with Arl Eamon. She was only mildly surprised when Merrill, Aveline, Fenris, Carver and Isabela joined her at the dinner table just when the servant brought out what looked like a hearty beef stew with slices of bread and cheese. It didn't take much encouragement or prompting to get the entire table to eat portions of the food. Hawke was ravenous and it almost brought tears to her eyes when she realized how much she'd been starving herself. Idly, she wondered if Anders had partaken in any food recently. The thought was lost shortly thereafter when the aroma of the delicious food wafted up into her nostrils. Tears of contentment and despair burned her eyelids at the thought that they were to continue on such an arduous journey. A small, slowly fading part of her was trying to ignore the fact that this would never be the reality or her life; but how she craved it. _'Must get past this right now,'_ she thought with a bitterness she didn't like in herself. To her right Isabela was drinking wine from a pewter mug a servant had placed next to her and it seemed all the more reason of loosening her up. The Pirate was close to throwing herself on the Elf's lap, which Fenris hadn't seemed to notice as he continued to eat.

"Oh damn the Maker!" She practically shouted when Carver clumsily knocked over his own mug, spilling red Antivan wine all over her enchanted robes. Merrill couldn't suppress her own giggle and would have choked had Isabela not quickly performed a maneuver that had the Blood Mage spitting her food out onto the floor. All the while Fenris ate on as if nothing had transpired. Hawke rolled her eyes while she mopped at her robes with a rag a random servant suddenly brought to them. "Maker above Carver, watch it with your clumsy hands!"

Carver looked absolutely insulted by the remark even as he helped Merrill clean up the food she'd spit up. "I would apologize but something tells me you could care less about such a thing, sister."

"Whatever, Carver. I'm tired and I would just, this once, like to eat in peace." She said nothing further, reverting her attention back to her bowl with very little to no interest in pursuing an argument with her younger brother. Just when her thoughts started to stray into a disastrous realm revolving around Bethany and Leandra, Varric walked into the hall. She raised her gaze to meet his. "Yes, Varric?"

"Nothing, just observing Daisy and Junior here." Carver shot Varric a dirty look but the dwarf only chuckled. "Seems another fitting insert for my story, Hawke." A snort was heard in the hall. "Anyway, I did need to speak with you if it's possible."

She waved him away. "Alright, just let me finish eating then I'll join you in the hall. But I need to return here. I need to speak with everyone about our journey to the Circle of Magi." Somewhere, in the deep recesses of her mind Hawke cursed her luck.

Isabela let out a long, tired yawn as she stretched in front of her bed. Fenris had returned, albeit quietly, to his own room while she split towards hers without so much as a backward glance or inquiry about his actions. Once on her bed the Siren flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling with an interest she didn't really feel. The conversation she'd had with Hawke was weighing heavily on her mind when there was a knock at her door. She sat up quickly; glad no one could see her actions within the privacy of her dormitory. _'Fenris?'_ She wondered, idly, if he'd decided to return after all but the female voice that asked permission to enter caused Isabela's unabashed and private smile to falter. Putting on her best mischievous face, the rogue opened the door, leaning on the post in a seductive manner. "Why hello there, Hawke. Come to join me in my bedchambers for an evening romp? I imagine that stick in the mud hasn't put wind in your sails recently."

Hawke snorted in an unladylike manner before crossing her arms over her chest. "Actually…as lovely as having someone shine my rudders sounds I came to check on you. Other than trying to climb your way into Fenris' lap, you were awfully quiet my friend. What's on your mind?"

The pirate shot her a warning look to which Hawke rolled her eyes and all but shoved the dark skinned beauty into her own room, closing the door behind her. Isabela huffed at this action. "Look Hawke, I already told you, this is not about feelings. They're stupid. They complicate things. And I will never be tied down again."

"Then enlighten me if you will, what is this that you've been doing?" Hawke spread her arms wide and smirked. "Staying with me, what do you call that Isabela? You've tied yourself down to me. And don't misunderstand; I appreciate it and I'm glad of it. But this…fear you have of hurting someone…I wish you could let it go."

Turning away, the black haired woman clenched her fists in frustration. "I don't think I can do that, sweet thing. Love is not in my cards and it never will be."

"You say that like you're proud of it. And I'll bet you have been all these years. But what about now?" Hawke's hand was on the pirate's shoulder before she could turn around. "You have been there for me, my friend—like a sister. Please, let me be here for you."

Isabela shrugged it off but didn't ignore her friend, instead turning to look Hawke in the eye. "I ask myself sometimes, why I'm still here and try to figure out a way to just…leave. And yet nothing I say to myself, nothing I do can convince me otherwise." Hawke shot her a thoroughly bored and irritated look to which Isabela finally threw her hands up when she realized the mage was not buying it. "Okay, look…" she paused. "I'm not good at this. I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be. But I cannot go from disparaging love and ignoring feelings to suddenly accepting the minute possibility that I am still capable of such things."

Hawke smiled wearily. "Isabela…I never said you were in love with Fenris, but perhaps there are some…feelings worth looking into this time. I would never force you into something you didn't want, or subconsciously want. But I am worried about you."

"Not my ability to focus on fighting?" She 'hmphed' in offense. "It's not like I'm staring at Fenris' ass through battle even though I do love the view."

"Can't say I don't understand the feeling…" Hawke trailed.

The Pirate Queen sidled over to the Force Mage with a subliminal smile. "Sweet thing, are you trying to tell me that you stare at Anders during battle?"

"How did we get back to discussing my sex and love life as opposed to yours?"

The black haired woman threw her head back in laughter. "Because yours is far more interesting, especially since Anders can do that electricity trick!"

"A trick I have yet to receive along with even the barest of touches, 'Bela," Hawke snapped irritably. "I swear…you blur the lines of all possibilities and test my patience to the point of nausea."

"But that's why you love me!" Isabela said, her smile all teeth.

Rubbing her temples Hawke could do nothing better but nod at the ridiculous statement though it did make her laugh inside. "Anyway, it's late and I'm tired. Perhaps we should continue this discussion later?"

"You mean I get to bed you now?"

Hawke simmered. "Isabela…"

"Alright, alright, I get it. We'll talk after you've rested and you're not so grumpy!"

"And when you're not so apt to avoiding the topic at hand!"

"Is something the matter?"

Both women froze at the masculine voice with Isabela blushing to the roots of her hair while a suddenly sly smile placed Hawke's lips. She slowly turned to the door. "Why, Fenris, no. Nothing wrong at all. I was just leaving." She quickly exited the door but not before throwing the Siren a smirk. "We will continue this discussion tomorrow."

She didn't wait to hear them start discussing or whatever they were doing. Instead, she made her way towards her own bedroom with such haste it seemed as if she was outrunning a demon. She had suspected—and it wasn't like Isabela had denied it—that they were sleeping together but she also suspected that there was more to it. Isabela could have been sleeping with him due to the short supply of men in their midst but it when they'd entered Redcliffe she had yet to sleep with anyone else. Sure, the Pirate Queen had entertained many and flirted with all the singletons in the village but she had not bedded any of them, yet. And she wasn't sure the pirate would be doing so. She had heard their hushed voices when walking away but wasn't too interested in actually hearing what they were saying. Her head was aching and her belly felt full enough to burst. As it was she still had to get back to the dining hall to speak with Varric. Everyone had already expressed their concern and distaste, in some cases, at heading towards the Circle at Lake Calenhad but she didn't get any particularly vicious remarks from anyone other than Fenris. Even he had seemed more subdued and she was sure this was directly related to how much he was quenching his physical needs. Isabela wasn't one to deny such needs for too long, especially in herself.

With a sigh, Hawke laid on her bed, hands over her eyes as tears leaked out from the sides. They slid slowly down her cheeks to her neck where they seemed to create a damp pool at the hem of her collar. Her body felt weary and tired, weak and stressed. Her heart ached, oh how it ached; with a deep rooted pain that agonized not only her subconscious, but her conscious thoughts as well. Day in and day out she thought of Anders, of every sweet moment they'd shared, of every touch, whisper, kiss that they'd shared throughout their time at Kirkwall. And it made the ache worsen to the point where Hawke felt that only the unforgiving arms of death itself would ease the feelings of despair that consumed her soul. She felt her resolve weakening as time passed. Her will to carry on their love, to believe in it and see it though had begun to falter. Lately it felt like her world of hope grew smaller, and smaller, until she was sure there would be nothing left to grasp. The string that attached them together was wearing thin, thin like the veil and her connection to his heart was beginning to vanish before her very eyes. Hawke couldn't fathom a life without Anders. Call it melodramatics but this was it for her. There had never been a time before this where she'd felt like anyone was the end all of her relationship with love. But this, this was something so deep, so strong and ridiculously satisfying that, had she been any other person, it bordered on an unhealthy obsessions.

But it was not an obsession by any means; Hawke was in love, unconditionally, with the mage. Her love was unadulterated, insane and even sick to others who didn't understand the depth of her feelings. Or perhaps they did and knew it was horrible for her. Yet all she wanted, all she craved with an intense urge was to crawl into Anders arms and stay there forever. His embrace would be warm, it would be comforting, and she would feel safe. Even with all that had happened, even with Vengeance lurking beneath his broken façade she knew that with Anders, all worries, all things disappeared. It was her haven. He was her haven. And their mutual love was what kept her going even if it wasn't what kept him going_. 'How do I know that it isn't?'_ The thought fell away quickly when her body realized she was on a comfortable bed and fatigue began to pull at her thoughts and body. Nestling close to her pillow and burrowing her face in it, Hawke was finally able to drift off into a much needed slumber. The nightmares of Kirkwall's destruction and all the deaths shadowed her dreams, only vaguely penetrated by a shimmering blue light she was all too familiar with now.

* * *

They were on schedule according to Surana. Hawke forcibly bit back a yawn while they continued their even pace towards the Circle. The war had not spared many parts of Ferelden as was demonstrated by the current landscape and even suspicious folk who had hid in the forests among them. Anders continued to travel behind Surana and in front of Aveline, the view still a constant reminder that he was dangerous and had to be transported like a prisoner. Kirkwall, the City of Slaves, the City of the Gallows, was a constant annoying thought in her head during the journey to the Circle. But Merrill, ever the innocent, had rejoiced in seeing the mostly intact visage of Lake Calenhad to their sides. The water was, more or less, clean and pristine. It reminded her of the times when she and her siblings would go off of their property and wander to the nearby streams. The water had been fresh and full of life like the water she gazed at now. Lothering, while not a rich place, had still been her home and she missed it terribly all these years later. With a sigh Hawke brought her mind back to the present, almost tripping on her own feet from the reverie when she noticed the top of the Circle tower in the distance. It seemed ominous and she had a sudden sense of dreadful foreboding that made her want to disappear into a hole.

For her part Surana seemed unfazed but then again, Hawke still couldn't quite read the elvhen mage well enough to decipher whether Surana was unsettled or not. Anders, also, gave no inclination of her mood. His face was a complete blank slate during their walk to the Circle. It was irking to Hawke in a way she didn't feel comfortable with though not as extreme in comparison to their unspoken and unexplained connection to each. And the fade. Sighing, she quickened her pace to bypass the rebel mage and hurried herself until she caught up with Surana. The Arcane mage smiled at the sight of the Champion.

"You're nervous?"

Hawke nodded slowly. "Yes, a bit. I have never met First Enchanter Irving. Nor have I ever met freed mages before…that weren't considered apostates. The fact that things have to come to this when it was clear the Circles could be managed on their own…"

"Not all First Enchanters are quite the caliber of Irving, I assure you. Orsino was a weak link in the Mages plight."

Hawke bristled at Anders comment but said nothing in response to his snarky attitude. It was bad enough that she'd dreamed of him the night before to such a magnitude she almost wanted to kill her brain for waking up and interrupting her dream. Ignoring Anders, she continued to talk to the Hero. "I just wish…well, I wish things could've been different."

Surana, who had indeed heard Anders comment, simply nodded in agreement. "These are the tests that would define our character, Hawke. Do not despair. We will find a way to right this yet."

"Your positivity is astounding for a mage," Fenris replied. Hawke jumped, not even realizing her had come up next to her. He shot her an inquisitive look before bringing his attention back to Surana. "It seems I have…misjudged you. Hawke has told me that my distrust of mages is…unwise to share here at this Circle."

The elven mage nodded. "Indeed. We will find out whether such a precaution is necessary once we reach the Circle. I am not sure how many mages remain there nor do I know the state of the Circle but I would hope unnecessary violence and unsavory attitudes will…remain unneeded."

It was odd, to Hawke, seeing Fenris suddenly take an interest in the Hero's words. Rolling her eyes in irritation because this was coming out of nowhere to her, she allowed herself to fall behind again while Surana and Fenris continued their strange but engaged conversation. Instead, she fell all the way back until she was side by side with Carver. Merrill seemed to sense that Hawke wanted to speak to her brother alone and quickly strode up to Isabela. The Pirate Queen appeared all too willing to discuss "dirty" things with the innocent mage, which Hawke was grateful for—she needed to speak with Carver. Prepared for a long discussion, she opened her mouth just as they reached the border of the lake where a dock laid, still full intact, and a Templar still guarding it. Hawke felt Anders bristle but Surana placed a gentle hand on his arm before it could go anywhere.

"Good day, ser Carroll. My companions and I have need to cross the Lake. First Enchanter Irving and Knight-Commander Gregoir will have informed you of this."

The Templar nodded, his eyes ghosting over all the party members until they landed on Anders. "Wait a minute…have we met before?"

Anders quickly shook his head in annoyance. "I don't think so."

Surana quickly intervened. "Ser Carroll, the boat, if you please. I have some confections you might appreciate." She handed him what appeared to be a bag of cookies and Hawke felt her jaw drop. Within moments they were climbing in the boat to cross Lake Calenhad to enter the Circle Tower. While on the boat, the Hero leaned over to Hawke with a mischievous grin on her face of which the likes were only shadowed by her own stoicism. "Long ago, I was here for this very reason with my old companions. Ser Carroll has ingested so much lyrium over the years that Knight-Commander Gregoir was forced to…relocate his services. He's quite…dedicated to this role."

Hawke and Carver both exchanged a quick look since Carver himself was a former Templar himself; Hawke had to cover her mouth before the laugh left her lips. Carver's brow knitted in concern. "Do they…all get like that?"

Surana shook her head. "No, not all. Ser Cullen lost his mind without the lyrium, especially after Uldred destroyed the tower."

"Knight-Captain Cullen who served under Knight-Commander Meredith?" Surana nodded. Hawke rubbed her temples. "Is there anyone you don't know or have connections with? I feel like my head is spinning every time we speak." She suddenly threw her hands up in the air, narrowly missing hitting Carver in the face. "Sometimes it feels like my head is going to explode from this ridiculous amount of information. Surana, please tell me you will fill me in more when we arrive? I wouldn't want to die from a blow to the head."

Surana suddenly giggled in an uncharacteristic manner before nodding. "That, we both have in common."

Moments later they had reached the docks of the Circle Tower to be greeted by three figures waiting outside its entrance. Hawke watched with renewed interest while Surana tightly grasped her hand and led her up to the figures standing before them. Immediately she noticed two of them were men, one as the First Enchanter, the other as the Knight-Commander. The other was an elderly woman with white hair and heavy magic waves rolling off of her tall, thin form. Her arms were crossed in an almost foreboding manner and Hawke was weary of her until Surana walked up to meet them. Extending her hands, the Hero placed them on the older woman's forearms and smiled widely.

"Wynne, it is so very good to see you again, my friend."

The woman's aged face suddenly broke into a smile. "Yes, Surana, it is wonderful to have you back here."

The older man, who Hawke figured was Irving, nodded enthusiastically. "It has been far too long. Our King was here not too long ago in search of you. I could only be honest. The mages here will welcome your return, my dear. Many have missed your presence, normal as it is for you to be gone for long periods of time."

Surana nodded. "Yes, it has been so very long."

Knight-Commander Gregoir stepped up and raised a hand in a meager welcome. "That you've returned must mean there is news regarding the war. The fact that the Ferelden Circle isn't completely destroyed is only the barest ray of hope we have in these dark times. It seems that the Templar Order was also to blame, a fact that is irksome to those of us not against the mages. However," he looked sharply behind her. "It seems you have brought guests."

Surana took a deep breath. "Yes. Please, I must request that you hold your tempers and reservations." She practically dragged Hawke on her right side before them with Anders flanking her left side. The audible gasps were so loud it felt like they were on the precipice of a dangerous battlefield, which only made Hawke want to disappear into a black hole. "This is…Messere Hawke, Champion of what was once Kirkwall."

First Enchanter Irving's eyes narrowed at the sight of the infamous mages but he did not seem to dwell on Hawke's presence, his eyes focusing on the mage next to her. "Anders. Reports have mentioned, time and time again, you were dead." Anders blinked incomprehensibly, embarrassment blooming on his once confident, sarcastic face. Hawke didn't know whether to be worried or uncertain. "I am sure there is a good and lengthy explanation as to how you are still alive and what your involvement in this might be. It would seem I was wrong—you weren't as harmless as I once thought."

"The Mages have ruined all of Thedas!" Gregoir stepped forward with his sword raised to strike but Surana quickly blocked his path. "Why do you guard these mages? It is their fault that this treachery, this treason has befallen all of Thedas. The Chantry has been destroyed, the Circles rebelled, and the Templar order thrown into chaos. I cannot stand for this!"

"**Your Templars are the reason things have become so bad. The Chantry is the reason the mages have rebelled. Your so called Order is the reason this war began. Do not claim to blame this all of myself and the mages when the whole of Thedas was to blame for this insufferable excuse of humane treatment!"**

"An abomination!" Gregoir's eyes flashed with surprise at the comprehension of what the mage before him had become. "The mage that escaped the Circle seven times?" He pointed an accusing finger at Irving. "You should have slain him, made him tranquil when you had the chance!" He then turned to scowl at Surana in anger, in accusation as he continued to try to inch closer to Anders. "You harbor a murderer! I will have you slain this very instant for your crimes and the destruction of Thedas!"

"**Your naiveté and constantly sustained ignorance will be your end, fool Templar. I shall slay you and every templar that remains in this realm. You will never touch another mage from this day forth!"**

"Enough!" Surana's and Hawke's voices boomed at the same time. It was the Hero who continued, her eyes narrowed angrily while Hawke's chest heaved with adrenaline. "This foolishness will get us nowhere. The war has already begun and no amount of shouting or accusations will remedy such." She averted her eyes to the form of Anders, which was glowing blue, the cracks in his skin signaling Vengeance had overridden him. The venomous hiss in the arcane mage's voice did not go unnoticed. "Spirit, you will return to your place lest I destroy your human host at this moment."

**"You wouldn't dare, Mage."**

"Try me," she spat.

Without another word Vengeance disappeared but both Hawke and Surana knew that his patience was wearing thin and they were reaching a critical point with the spirit inhabiting Anders body. Hawke still held onto the hope that, despite Anders many statements saying they were one, the vengeful spirit could be separated from him. Once it seemed Anders had returned to them—albeit disoriented and unsure as to what happened—only then did both mages put down their staffs. They could also hear the clanking of swords and daggers, which signaled that Hawke's party had been ready to slay the mage, or protect her at the very least. She could hear Isabela's sing-song voice whispering to Fenris and Merrill from behind her while it was clear that Aveline was worrying like a sick mother about the atmosphere of tension that had erupted. Gesturing to the entrance before them, Hawke followed the four disgruntled party members through the large, wooden double doors before them. Hawke took a firm hold of Anders hand, instantly feeling the connection between them spark; including the distaste and hunger from Vengeance. Biting back any fear she had in that moment from what had just occurred, she didn't wait for any commentary nor did she give him a chance to deny her. Anders protests never made it from his mouth.

Once they'd passed the threshold of the Circle's entrance, Hawke turned to him with a genuine, determined smile despite her fear being palpable to him. He gave their joined hands an uncomfortable glance over, and then brought his cinnamon eyes, heavy with apprehension and despair to her pair. Willingly embracing him, she whispered to him with a shaking voice, feeling him trembling in her arms. She wished she could find the right words, any words, to let him know how much she needed him and wanted him around even if Vengeance wanted her blood. They still had yet to thoroughly and properly address the issue of their deep connection but she hoped First Enchanter Irving and this new mage, Wynne, could provide answers to such. Steeling her nerves and praying she appeared strong for them both, she leaned towards him, brushing her lips against his ear. In the dark times ahead of them, she didn't want to face it alone anymore.

"I'm with you, Anders. I'm with you, forever."

* * *

_(AHHH! It's done, for now. OMG, I have so much left to do still—and it will probably clash with what's been put out by E3…ugh! Anyhow, the start of the search for the Darkspawn starts in the next chapter after a brief interlude at the Circle to explain the odd connection between Anders and Hawke, plus…exploring a POSSIBLE separation of Anders and Justice using Tevinter Magic. My deepest thanks to those who still read and review. My deepest apologies to those who no longer do because of my procrastination and other reasons. Regardless, I really, truly appreciate it. Thank you! I *heart* you all! This ate up so much of my time…must go work on other projects.)_

_~Sadistickunais_


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